Test of Time: The Beginning
by abuchild
Summary: Evi Wood has always wished for a new life and after her beloved grandfather passes, there's nothing in the world she wants more. Against all odds she falls into Narnia, where she's unwillingly destined to follow in her grandfather's footsteps.
1. Across the Universe

**So I'm having such a great time writing this I decided to give a little sneak preview of the first to chapters. The route I'm taking with this is to split it into three parts each with several chapters. It seems more logical to do it this way since when everything is said and done it would be well over 50 chapters. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Chronicles of Narnia except my OC's...It's also rated M for language and adult themes which aren't so present in the first part but will become more prominent as the story goes on. **

**So here's part one of Test of Time!**

* * *

><p>It is raining again. It's always raining...or that's how it always seems to me anyway. I don't mind, though, I like the rain. I like the way it sounds against the windows when I wake up in the morning; the soft pitter patter.<p>

It relaxes me.

If it wasn't for that damn wind, I probably would've enjoyed this morning's rain.

Today is Saturday. Just a normal Saturday, though, a much needed one because my workload at school is starting to weigh me down. Six AP classes is no easy task, but it's my goal to start college as a sophomore, maybe a junior depending on where I am accepted.

I want out...I've wanted out for the longest time. New York just isn't the place for me.

With a large yawn I draw the blankets back from my bed, slip on my robe, and pull my dark hair back into a ponytail.

Breakfast would, once again, be left up to me as my parents were probably already at work. My dad, he's an engineer with NASA and my mom is an influential defense attorney...letting all the bad guys go walking. Neither of them were ever home. They couldn't even bother with a nanny to at least keep me company. In my mind, it's fair to say they neglected me. Of course, they showered me with gifts any chance they got just to "prove" they still love me. I can't say it doesn't hurt... but it certainly isn't love either.

Nanna Jules agrees with me.

She always goes on about "today's children" and their obsessions with celebrity, fame, and fortune.

"They never stop to look at what they have if they just worked for it," she always says.

To some extent, I try to listen to what my Nanna tells me, her and Granddad Max have basically raised me in my parents stead. On the other hand, I _am _a seventeen-year old girl living in the 21st.

Health, wealth and happiness...It's all I've ever known.

I never had to face the poverty of The Great Depression, or the terrors of Pearl Harbor, World War I, or Vietnam. Sure there was 9/11 and the Iraq War but when all that started I was only seven and didn't understand a thing about it. To this day, I'm still not even sure I do. The point of all this is...I'm a selfish, spoiled, brat all because I've never had to live through anything in my life.

My life is boring, plain as that.

In a heartbeat, I would take all the terror, pain, sorrow, love, and excitement of those times and trade them with this mundane, superficial, life.

Aside from all this drabble, I always enjoy visiting my grandparents. It's a habit of mine every Saturday morning, especially in Granddad Max's worsening condition. Amazing he's even lived this long. The old man is turning one-hundred year's old! Could be living a lot longer if it weren't for the Alzheimer's...

"Hello, Nanna," I beam at the squat, old lady setting the dining room table for brunch.  
>"Ohh there you are, Evi. I was beginning to wonder if you were going to come at all," she pulls my head down and plants a big ol' kiss on my cheek.<br>"And miss you're delicious cooking? Not a chance," I smirk, picking at the strawberry strudels.  
>"Where's Gatsby?" I ask, noticing the absence of my grandparents' old German shepherd.<br>"He's upstairs with Max. Barely leaves his side," Nanna solemnly shakes her head.  
>"How <em>is<em> Granddad?" I ask, hoping for some kind of change.

Her body slides into a chair, her snow-white hair falling on her shoulders and a deep sigh passing by her lips.

"He's getting worse. All he ever does now is cuss at me or go on about those stories of his," her eyes start to well up with tears, "He's just becoming too much to bear for me. I'm starting to think that putting him and myself in a nursing home would be better for the both of us."

"But, Nanna, you and Granddad are all I've got. If you go to a nursing home, I'll never see the two of you," I softly protest, the very thought ripping at my heart.

Nanna is silent as she looks into my pleading, silver eyes and holds onto my strong hand.

"We'll talk about this later. For now, why don't you go see your grandfather? It'll do him some good to see a familiar face," she nods with a weak smile.

I thought she was about to have a change in heart.

A nursing home? And lose the two closest people in my life?

The thought consumes me like cancer and I feel my muscles tense as I climb the stairs to Granddad's room. If they leave, I would have to leave too. I could not and would not stay in New York with my parents. I don't know where I would go but I could survive on my own.

"Easy, Jay," I soothe the slightly growling dog, using my nickname for him, "How's the old man doing, huh?" I scratch his head between his ears.

Granddad is slumped in his blue wingback chair, numbly looking out the window at the pounding rain.

"Hey, Granddad," I gently kiss his wrinkled cheek, sliding a chair up next to him.

His eyes briefly glance in my direction, but there was no sense of recognition at all in his grey irises.

"Some weather, huh?" I ask, pointing to the raging tempest outside.  
>"It's fucking cold," he mumbles.<br>"Are you cold, Max?" I lean back and grab a blanket off the trunk at the foot of his bed, "Here's a blanket."  
>"I don't need no damn blanket!" he yells, and I take it back with a sigh.<br>"_She_ made everything so cold! That _bitch_ with her staff and ugly voice!" he continues to yell.

I really have no other choice but to listen to his rant and nod as if I understand what he was saying.

"After _her_ I had no need to stay. My duty was over. But it was so beautiful, unlike anything I've ever seen. And the creatures...they were so nice. It was a peaceful time. Not like this shit hole we call _Earth_!" he violently throws the book that was carefully set upon his lap.

Violence was another thing Granddad seems to have picked up with his Alzheimer's.

In his small rage, though, his grey eyes connect with mine once more; this time...he was actually looking at me.

"Have you seen it?" he quietly asks, his voice barely above a whisper, and I'm even sure if he was directly asking me.  
>"Seen what?" I slowly answer, realizing he <em>is<em> asking me after he kept staring.  
>"Narnia of course!" he bellows, turning his chair toward me.<br>"What's Narnia?" I shake my head.

I know I should not encourage him, but I'm genuinely intrigued. This is the first time in months Granddad has directly spoken to anyone...to me.

"Only the most gorgeous place in the universe," he blissfully sighs, relaxing back into his chair, "It's a planet, shaped like a disc; not a sphere like our own. There's also a country Narnia, where I served to the King and Queen. I was their protector. I did my job well and with honor. I had to, for Aslan gave me the task. The Great Lion. Oh, Evi, I wish you had been alive to see it."

Salty tears silently cascade down my cheeks.

He recognizes me.

I mean he actually _recognizes_ me, face and name. But it's killing me at the same time. How can he remember me, but be so utterly lost in fantasy of this imaginary planet?

"I see how miserable you are here. Aslan would've given you a purpose. Maybe even the same as me! Protector to the Throne of Narnia! I know you would've been good at it too. Alas, I haven't returned since the Long Winter and I doubt it would still be there. But it was sure beautiful," he sighs again, turning his chair back to the window.

In hindsight...I should've done more.

I should've wrapped my arms around him and asked him to tell me more about Narnia. I should've spent as much time with him as possible...

As it were, I simply mop up my tears and join Nanna for brunch, leaving the house as soon as I was finished, never once mentioning what happened with Granddad.

It's my deepest regret that I didn't find out more about Narnia from Granddad before he passed.

* * *

><p>Three days later, on a Tuesday, it isn't raining. In fact, it's a warm, sunny, spring day and it feels unfair that it's so nice when I feel so terrible. It only makes things worse when people keep going up to my mom and telling her how sorry they were for her loss.<p>

As if she cares.

She looks as if it was just another one of my goldfish that had died. She doesn't even know I have any goldfish...

I'm the one who is in pain. I am the one who suffered a loss, Nanna and me.

Nanna couldn't even bring herself to his funeral. So, I sit in our house...in a short, stupid, black mini dress...practically vomiting at all the people who pretend they knew Granddad.

Those moochers are here for the free meal.

Nobody _really_ cares.

"Oh, Jean, we're so terribly sorry for your loss. Take these, they're from everyone at the firm," a middle-aged woman hands my mom a bouquet of flowers.  
>"Thank you, Beth. They're wonderful. My father meant so much to me, I'm really going to miss him," she sniffles, my father rubbing his hand over her back.<p>

The gaping hole in my stomach intensifies and I am overwhelmed by arrogance and stupidity of the people around me.

I need some air.

A light wind blows chills up my spine and I tug on my long, black, trench coat, also taking care not to let my sandals sink into the mud from the rain we had gotten all weekend. Outside, I let myself drift farther and farther away from the house, letting all the noise develop into mere hum in my ears. My wandering brings me closer to the wood in our backyard where I stop and just idly stand. Tipping my head back, I calmly listen to the sound of the birds chirping, and I gaze up in the clear blue sky.

It's all I can do to keep my thoughts away from Granddad.

"Evelyn Wood?" the aged and accented voice startles me from my reverie.  
>"Yes?" I turn to find a man about as old as Granddad.<br>"My name is Daniel Kirke. You're uh, grandfather was a good friend of my elder brother. Years ago, your father gave to Diggory a letter that was to be given to his first grandchild in the event of his death. Now, Diggory passed away years ago but before he did he gave me the letter and now I shall pass it on to you," the man pulls out a thick, yellow envelope from his coat.

"Well, what's it for? What good does this do me?" I ask, slightly annoyed that this stranger was handing me some forgotten envelope that has utterly no significance.  
>"I am so sorry for your loss, dear child," he nods and turns to walk back inside.<p>

Frowning at the man, I watch him trek his way back to the house. Once he was out of sight, I tear open the envelope, pulling out what felt to be pieces of parchment. The pages are covered in Granddad's handwriting and drawings. Flipping through page after page, I stumble on what appears to be a map. In the bottom-left, corner, a legend is boxed, indicating what the dots on the map represent.

Cair Paravel...Ettinsmoor...Anvard...Beruna

These places sound as if they came straight out of Lord of the Rings or something.

And then a flash of red on the corner of the map catches my eye. In wide, bold, letters the word Narnia was elegantly written in calligraphy.

A small gasp escapes my lips and my fingers loosen their tight grip around the pages. Unfortunately, at that exact moment, a large gust of wind rips the stack right out of my hands and into the woods.

"No!" I shout, following the scattered pages into the brush.

The map...the page that I was most curious about... soars between two towering trees that almost formed some kind of path or gate. I lunge forward, hoping that I would catch the paper before it flies sky-high. When I land, however, my face is covered in the icy powder of a fresh coat of snow.

My heart stops.

Like, seriously, I think my heart stopped beating, and I scramble to my feet, out of the snow.

I just stand.

There was nothing else I could do.

Where the _fuck_ am I?

And then, out of nowhere, I feel like crying. So I do.

I just let the tears fall and let the sobs escape my mouth. My body is frozen stiff...one minute I'm in my backyard and...now? I'm somewhere ankle-deep in the snow.

Again, where the _fuck_ am I?

That's when I stop crying.

I realize, that this is all one bad dream...nightmare. Granddad dying, me falling into Wonderland is all a dream.

I'm asleep!

I could get onboard with that idea.

I like sleep and this dream certainly is concurrent with the dreams I normally have. I mean, my dreams are _weird_. And the way I jumped from my backyard to this forest totally makes sense with the dream world!

"Ooohkay," I breathe, getting a better bearing of where I am.

Dream or not, I don't like to be alone. So my first goal is to find some kind of company.

On my right, there's a lightly trodden path that I decide would be my best option. I had only been walking a couple minutes when I realize this dream is beginning to become boring now that I know I'm sleeping.

Besides, I probably am late for school or something so I have to wake up. I close my eyes, willing myself to just wake up on my own. It only takes me a moment or two to see that that strategy isn't working. Instead I try pinching myself.

Nothing.

My heart is starting to race again.

Then I try slapping myself.

Still nothing.

My mind is all over the place again as the panic starts to set in again.

"Ok, ok, ok," I take a deep breath, "You die in a dream you wake up?"

I spot a sharp, broken branch a couple feet away.

A deep pain sinks into the pit of my stomach as I raise the branch in front of me, the point directed at my chest. I am about to kill myself.

"It's a dream. I'll wake up," I remind myself, tightly closing my eyes as I prepare to drive the branch through my chest.

"NO!"

My eyes snap back open at the shout and am tackled to the ground by something with... _fur_?


	2. My Poor Brain

**Another chapter right away! Things won't usually be this frequent but I just wanted to get this out to give you a little taste of something new. **

**The usual disclaimer applies.**

The wind is knocked out of my lungs and I struggle for a breath as I reel onto my stomach.

"Are you _daft_, girl?" an angry voice challenges somewhere to my left.  
>"You...could've...just asked," I cough, finally able to take a deep breath.<br>"You humans, I swear," the voice sighs.  
>"Humans? What the hell does that make—you..." I roll to my side, coming face to face with a fox.<p>

The fox merely blinks its dark brown eyes at me, not making any move.

"Easy, little fella," I slowly say, backing away from the animal.  
>"The name is Cato actually," it smirks.<p>

I let out a scream, cowering against the nearest tree.

This _fox_ just _talked_.

My dreams are weird, sure, but I don't think I've ever had _talking animals_ in them.

"You sure don't look like any of the humans I've seen before," he notes, circling around me.  
>"So there are other people around here?" I ask, my heart still pounding against my ribs in surprise.<br>"There haven't been for hundreds of years. Then all of sudden, one day five of them decide to show up," he sits on his haunches, still curiously eyeing me up, "You don't sound like them either. You're accent is funny."

This coming from a fox with a British accent.

I give him a slow nod, desperately wanting to wake up.

"Fascinating. I'm going to go ahead and wake up now," I pick the branch up again.  
>"No!" he growls, taking the branch in his teeth.<p>

I instantly drop it, not wanting to get into a fight with a fox.

"What do you mean 'no?' This dream is getting old and I want to wake up and since pinching and slapping myself didn't work I have to kill myself," I argue, fully observing how insane this whole thing was.

"You are _not_ dreaming, milady. This is all happening right here, right now," he tosses the branch out of my reach.  
>"Don't be stupid. Of course I'm dreaming. How else do you explain the snow, the woods, and a talking fox!" I heatedly reply.<br>"Because Narnia has been blanketed in the Long Winter for centuries," he coolly explains.  
>"Narnia? NARNIA?" the anger in my voice rises, "Narnia isn't <em>real<em>! My mentally ill grandfather made the whole thing up! It was just a bunch of ravings from a degenerative man! THIS ISN'T REAL!" I shriek.

The fox shakes his head with a sigh, "I don't know how I can make this any clearer to you."

"Stop it! Just _STOP_. These kinds of things _DON'T_ happen. People don't get swallowed up by faraway places. This kind of stuff is what writer's get paid to write about in the film industry!" I shout trying to rationalize everything.

"Apparently they happened to your grandfather," he slyly reminds me.

My rant immediately stops and my mind travels back to all the times Granddad mentioned Narnia. Every time he mentioned it, he spoke of it as if he were there, like it was a memory...not some story.

And then I remember the map.

I gasp, realizing it was buried in the snow at my feet. It is the one other real thing that ties me to reality and this place.

"W-where are we exactly?" I hesitantly ask, not knowing if I am going to like the answer.  
>"We would be in The Latern Waste, milady," he dutifully answers, "The lamp post is just beyond those trees there."<p>

There it is...on the map.

Name, lamp post and everything.

My heart sinks to the pit of my stomach again and I crash to my knees.

"What's that you've got there?" the fox, or Cato, asks, trotting over to my side in my daze.  
>"Wha? Oh well it's a map...or was a map. The snow has washed away a lot of the ink," I sullenly reply, thumb smudging the running black splotch.<br>"Terrible loss," he humors me, "Well, on your feet."

I obey his order but then begin to panic about how I am getting home.

"Wait! If this place is real, _where_ is this place? And how do I get home?" I frantically ask.  
>"All in good time. For now, I suggest we get you to the Beavers'. It's not exactly safe for a lone human to be walking about these woods," he warily glances around, suddenly frightening me.<p>

"Where are we going again?" I ask, the fear taking all sense out of me.  
>"To the Beavers'. Come along, it's not too far ahead," he trots up ahead of me.<br>"Beavers. Right," I echo, not entirely sure of myself.

Granddad's dead, I'm in Narnia following a talking fox, and going to a beaver's home. I'm losing my mind. I am _literally_ going insane.

It must be genetic or something.

It isn't long until Cato and I come across the sound of voices up ahead.

"He was my best mate!"  
>"What happened to them?"<p>

Cato jumps out of the brush, probably startling...whoever is there on the other side.

"This is what becomes of those who cross the witch," he says.

I roll my eyes, pushing some low-lying branches out of my way.

Great, so now I'm dealing with witches too.

This is like a sick crossover between Tolkien, Rowling, and Jacques.

"You take one more step traitor and I'll chew you to pieces!" a small but stern voice warns.  
>"Relax, I'm one of the good guys," I hear Cato answer.<br>"Yeah? Well you look an awful lot like one of the bad ones," the voice suspiciously answers.

The voice, I see as I finally catch up to the group, belongs to none other than a beaver.

"Well if he's one of the bad guys then I've been following the completely wrong person...er, fox," I make my presence known, stumbling on some overgrown roots and receiving a handful of surprised looks from humans and beavers alike.

"An unfortunate family resemblance, but we can argue breeding later. Right now we need to move," Cato urges.

That's when I notice the struggling sounds of some other animal behind a barrel, presumably covering up some kind of tunnel.

"What do you suggest?" a boy with sandy-blonde hair asks.

Cato glances up at a nearby tree causing all our gazes to follow.

"Right. Up you get," he orders, turning to use his tail to sweep away our foot tracks.

The blonde boy helps two other two girls into the tree, and I think he is going to climb up after them when he turns to me.

"Your turn," he says, momentarily eyeing up the dress I am wearing.

The look, however, isn't perverted in any way...it's more curious than anything.

I nod, tightening my jacket around me and grabbing onto his shoulder as he boosts my short frame up to the lowest branch. With ease he swings himself up and we all climb to the higher branches, just getting settled as the barrel bursts out of the hole, A frightening pack of wolves spilling out and surrounding Cato.

"Evening gents. Lost something have we?" Cato casually asks.  
>"Don't patronize me. I know where your allegiance lies. We're looking for some humans," the wolf replies.<br>"Humans? In Narnia? Now that's some valuable information, don't you think?" Cato chuckles, suddenly being pinned to the ground.

The little girl to my left lets out a gasp and is silenced by the blonde boy. Cato's whimper even makes me cringe and the scene below is hard for me to watch.

"Your reward is your life. It's not much," the alpha evilly chuckles, "But still...where are the fugitives?"

The next few seconds were incredibly tense as I see Cato briefly glance up at all of us in the tree and I wonder if he would rat us out.

"North. They ran north," he breathes, hanging his head.  
>"Smell them out," the alpha barks at the others.<p>

The pack runs off but not before throwing Cato away like a rag doll, and I quickly hurry down the tree once the wolves are gone.

"Cato," I gasp, kneeling down beside him and softly running my fingers through his copper fur.  
>"I'll be all right, darling," he pushes himself onto wobbly legs, "Maybe we should get a fire going."<p>

I nod, hearing the others drop down from the tree. There is another tense moment as the beavers and the other humans wonderingly look at me.

"Another daughter of Eve?" the female beaver finally speaks.  
>"Daughter of Eve? No my mom's name is Karen," I correct her.<br>"What's your name, dearie?" the male beaver asks.

Good God, I'm talking to beavers.

"Evelyn Wood, but call me Evi," I tell them.  
>"Did you say Wood?" Cato asks and I nod, "Was your grandfather perhaps Sir Kellen Wood?"<p>

I'm more confused than ever.

"No. The one that's supposedly been to Narnia is Maxwell Beckett," I unsurely tell the animals, "That was my mom's maiden name. What does all this have to do with anything? And why were those wolves after people? And who are you and why are you dressed so funny? I mean, fur coats, _really_? Who wears a fur coat anymore?" the questions all come out before I can stop myself.

I am getting really tired of not knowing anything.

"We're dressed oddly? Look at you!" the older girl steps forward, pointing at my black dress.

I don't like her tone and I can tell she's judging me. She's just like all the girls back home.

"I mean, you could pass off as pin-up girl wearing something like that. Didn't your mother ever teach you to cover up?" she challenges.  
>"Susan," the little girl behind her warns.<br>"Ok I realize the dress is a little short but really?" I fold my arms across my chest.  
>"Should expect something like this from a yank," she scoffs.<br>"Susan, enough," the blonde boy steps out in front of her.  
>"Well I'm sorry. I don't see why we're wasting our time when Edmund is out there somewhere with that awful witch," she throws her arms up in the air and storms off to go find some firewood.<p>

I watch her go with a frown on my face.

I do _not_ like that girl.

"Sorry about my sister. Our brother Edmund ran off and was taken by the White Witch. She's not usually so blunt," he tells me.  
>"I'll have to take your word for it," I roll my eyes.<br>"I'm Peter Pevensie of Finchley," he holds out his hand.  
>"Evi Wood, I'm from New York. Well originally Chicago but my dad's work brought us to Upstate," I find myself rambling as I shake his hand.<p>

It's at this point that I realize how attractive he is; his sandy blonde hair falling neatly onto his forehead just above his crystal-clear, ocean-blue eyes...

"And I'm Lucy Pevensie!" the little girl boldly pushes her brother aside and shakes my hand as well, "Pleased to me you."

I chuckle, "Nice to meet you too."

Turns out, Lucy is quite the opposite from her sister; she is very charismatic and sweet. Susan, however, hasn't spoken one word to me since she came back with the firewood.

"Why were those wolves after you?" I ask, trying to pull my coat as tightly around my shoulders as I could.  
>"They're the witch's secret police," Mr. Beaver answers, "She's after Kings and Queens of Narnia."<br>"It's part of a prophecy," Lucy adds after seeing my confused look.  
>"So...you three and your brother Edmund are the <em>real<em> rulers of Narnia and now this witch wants you dead? How did you get mixed up in all that?" I ask, picking the bark off a nearby stick.

"It's sort of a long story," Peter quietly says, avoiding my eyes.  
>"Our dad is fighting in the war and the bombings got so bad our mum sent us to live in the countryside—"<br>"Lucy, shush. We don't need to explain ourselves to her," Susan hisses.

Peter sends his sister a dark look before finishing for Lucy, "And we stumbled into a wardrobe, ending up here."

"Wait, bombings? I thought the only bombings were in the Middle East. Don't you guys live in London?" I shake my head, trying to make sense of this.  
>"Middle East? What are you going on about? Haven't you heard of The Blitz?" Peter counters, looking at me as if I've lived in a cave the past decade.<p>

My eyes widen and my body freezes as I come suddenly onto another conclusion.

"Holy shit," I exclaim, covering Lucy's ears.

Susan scoffs again, the beavers let out a couple gasps, and Peter cracks a smile all at my expression of surprise.

"Vulgar girl," Susan shakes her head with a nasty look.  
>"That's it. I'm insane. I am <em>literally<em> sick in the head. There is no way in _hell_ that you people are from _1940_. No way. It's impossible," I throw my hands in the air, climbing to my feet and pacing back and forth.

"Peter, are all American's this peculiar?" Lucy whispers to her brother.

Peter chuckles only able to shrug his shoulders as he watches me babble and pace to myself.

"Evi...Evelyn...EVELYN!" Cato shouts, trying to get my attention.

"What?" I halt my movement, staring at the fox.  
>"Is something the matter?" he calmly asks, almost sending me over the edge.<p>

I let out a sarcastic chuckle, "Is something the _matter_? Yes! _They_ are from the year _1940_. I'll give you _one_ guess where I'm from. Just guess," Cato looks at a loss and I turn to everyone else, "Anyone else want to guess?"

Everyone else looked at me like I was mad, which I don't really blame them because that's how I was acting.

"No? How about the year _2011_. World War II has been over for over 65 years!" I loudly explain throwing my arms up into the air.  
>"Hang on a minute. Are you trying to tell us that you're from the <em>future<em>?" Peter doubtfully asks for clarification.  
>"Either I'm from the future or you're from the past. All I know is that I came from my Granddad's funeral in the year twenty-eleven and you just told me your house was bombed by the Luftwaffe in The London Blitz...that only took place in World War II," I elaborate, crashing back down into the snow.<p>

"You can't honestly think that we're just going to believe you're from the future!" Susan crossly yells.  
>"Hey, you can believe me or not. All I know is this place just gets more fu—effed up by the minute," I correct myself with a fervent glance in Lucy's direction.<p>

The animals all kind of sat by and listened to our argument, not really understanding anything that we were talking about...a common theme in this world: not understanding.

"That actually makes sense," Peter spoke after a few moments of silence that was filled with nothing but the soft crackle of the glowing fire.  
>"Peter. You can't actually believe her," Susan protests.<br>"Well I do," Lucy pipes up.  
>"It explains the way she's dressed too, Susan," Peter pointedly tells his sister.<br>"Pft, no kidding. If you think my dress is bad, you should see the stuff other people wear," I shake my head immediately thinking of Lady GaGa.

I let out a deep sigh, kneading my forehead with my knuckles; I am getting incredibly tired. When I look up, my eyes briefly meet Peter's but then I look away and down at Cato.

Funny, in that short moment, I swear I could see a change in the way Peter looks at me. Before it appeared he was almost disgusted by me, much like the way Susan is, but now...it was different. I don't know exactly in what way, it was just different.

"So...the wolves," Lucy changes the subject, trying to ease the tension.  
>"The badgers, they were helping Tumnus. And the witch got here before I did. OW!" he yelps, as Mrs. Beaver attends to his wounds.<br>"Are you all right?" Lucy asks with a wince.  
>"Well, I wish I could say their bark was worse than their bark," Cato jokes, though, letting our another yelp.<br>"Oh stop you're squirming. You're worse than Beaver on bath day," Mrs. Beaver chides.

"Worst day of the year," Mr. Beaver shudders, making us all chuckle.

"Thank you for your kindness, but I'm afraid that's all the cure I have time for," he wearily climbs to his feet.  
>"You're leaving?" I ask, alarmed that the only creature who likes me is leaving.<br>"It's been a pleasure my queens and an honor," he bows to Lucy and Susan, "But time is short and Aslan himself has asked me to gather more troops."

The beavers gasp, "You've seen Aslan?"  
>"What's he like?"<br>"Like everything we've ever heard," Cato smiles, "You'll be glad to have him by your side in the battle against the witch."

"But we're not planning on fighting against any witch," Susan objects.  
>"I second that," I agree, though, I hate to see that smug look on Susan's face.<br>"But King Peter, the prophecy!"  
>"We can't go to war without you," Mr. Beaver and Cato explain.<p>

Peter looks between his two sisters, frustratingly throwing a stick into the fire, "We just want our brother back."

"And I'm sorry, Cato, I just want to go home," I shake my head, not at all liking where this time traveling venture is taking me.

Cato's stare glances between all four of us, sending a kind of guilt into our stomachs. I feel bad for these creatures, I really do but I want to get home more than I want to fight in some war for some unknown God.

"I take my leave then," he bows his head once more before trotting off into the eerily still night.  
>"What do we do now?" I sigh, as the sound of Cato's footsteps can no longer be heard.<br>"We continue on to Aslan. He'll know how to get your brother back and get you home," Mr. Beaver stands.

As much as I want to sleep, I do _not_ want to wait around for those wolves to return.

"I'm tired," Lucy lets out an enormous yawn.  
>"Come along, Lu. We've got a long walk ahead of us," Peter, holds his sister's hand.<p>

I smile at the small girl knowing exactly how she feels. Peter, however, catches my gaze and our eyes lock once more, before I turn my head, a slight blush creeping across my cheeks.

"Mr. Beaver," I call, trotting to catch up to him to rid myself of the ridiculous blush, "Mr. Beaver. I was wondering if you could tell me about my Granddad, Max Beckett."

"What would you like to know?" he smiles up at me in the dark.

"Anything. Before he died he would ramble on about Narnia. Everyone thought it was just his disease talking and then before I fell into Narnia, a man came and delivered me a letter from my Granddad. I didn't get to read all of it but from what I saw he was some kind of soldier. And the last time I saw him he said that Aslan himself gave him a special duty. Do you know about any of this?" I hopefully ask.

"General Beckett was before my time here in Narnia but stories of his heroics have been passed down from generation to generation. General Becket was one of the humans present in Narnia during its early years and with it came responsibility. Mind you he was only a boy back then so was sent back home. But he returned some years later to head The Order of the Lion. It was a society created by Aslan to protect the throne of Narnia. The Order was directly in service to the King and Queen and served as advisors, protectors, and top military strategists when needed. Not much is known about The Order other than that. They're very secretive in order to ensure the utmost security. You're likely to follow in his footsteps, y'know."

His statement brings me abruptly to a halt as the others pass me by.

"Whoa, hold on a minute!" I shake my head, running to catch up again and accidently bumping into Peter.  
>"Sorry," I mutter, catching up to Beaver, "Hold on. Are you saying that <em>I'm<em> going to be Narnia's top commanding officer? That _I'm_ going to help lead this war? You must be joking!" I anxiously run my fingers through my wavy, brown locks.

"Well with the arrival of the four kings and queens of old, it makes sense that their new general would accompany them. And it only makes even more sense that a Beckett would be that new general," he shrugs his shoulders, "It's certainly not in any prophecy but it makes sense."

"No, no, no you've got the wrong girl. I-I don't fight! I'm hardly athletic! The only sport I do is swimming and even at that I'm second best! The only action I've seen is in movies. I'm not cut out for this!" the tears begin to swim in my eyes as another panic attack settles in my body.

I honestly feel like I'm in a movie. This is the kind of thing that happens to people in movies, all these bombs of knowledge being dropped...the sudden maturity expected of a person.

It's downright ridiculous.

After my brief chat with Mr. Beaver, I fall behind the group, wanting to be alone with my thoughts. Nobody seems to mind much, though, and I doubt anyone even looked back to make sure I'm all right...then again, every so often I would catch the glint from a pair of pure blue eyes curiously peering back at me.


	3. Runaway

**All right, so I gave in. Here's chapter 3!**

**[Insert usual disclaimer here]**

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><p>Our group walks for hours, well into the morning and right through the day with only a few short breaks for some bread that the beavers had brought along. I would say that things were uneventful if it weren't for the fact that this whole thing is one great event.<p>

That isn't the only thing.

Every so often, Peter and I catch one another staring at the other. Neither of us would say anything, we just turn our heads and keep walking, maybe with a slight smile and bit more confident stride in our steps.

It's hard to deny the fact that he's attractive, even if he is "X" amount of years older than me, and we haven't spoken to each other since the incident with the wolves. I can't imagine I made a good impression on him with my mad ravings and arguments with his sister. His siblings, however, are quite easy to pin. Susan takes any chance she can get to express her extreme dislike, though, her judgmental attitude has eased up a bit, and I know Lucy adores me by the way she keeps smiling at me and asking me questions about what the future is like.

But Peter...

He's no open book.

He's incredibly difficult to get a read on with the way he looks back at me, a wide range of different emotions racing over the boyish features of his face. One moment it seems like he picks up a bit of his sister's disapproval of me but then the very next there's a sense of curiosity and embarrassment? It's frustrating not being able to place his feelings toward me. I would go up and talk to him but I tend to get nervous when I try and talk to a cute boy. I try to come off as calm and confident but I always feel like a damn idiot.

"Now, Aslan's camp is near the stone table, just across the frozen river," Mr. Beaver points to a region near the setting sun.  
>"River?" Peter frowns.<br>"Oh the river's been frozen solid for a hundred years!" Mrs. Beaver explains with a smile, as if her statement solves all our problems.  
>"It's so far," Peter sighs, voicing what we all were thinking.<br>"It's the world, dear. Did you expect it to be small?" she smiles.  
>"Smaller," Susan snidely comments, looking directly at Peter.<p>

What a bitch.

With a sigh, I watch as he solemnly looks out at the long distance we still have to go. I want to say something, I even open my mouth, but the words never form; I don't know what I would say. Instead, I close my mouth and follow the others down the steep path, cursing at myself for being so timid.

My brain is in a fog of exhaustion as I start down the steep bluff, my legs and ankles throbbing. They feel like jelly as I cautiously inch forward, step by wary step, down the slippery slope. All it takes is one wrong step, and my foot slides and surges forward causing me to fall backward. If it isn't for the strong pair of arms holding me up, I would've fallen hard on my ass.

"Easy there," I hear Peter chuckle from behind and set me up right, his hands still hovering around my body.

I dust off the non-existent snow on the front of my jacket, another blush creeping upon my cheeks.

"Are you all right?" he asks.  
>"I'm fine," I nod, feeling the exhaustion weigh heavy on my body, "I'm just a little tired."<br>"Doesn't help that we're walking on an icy cliff-face does it?" he smiles.  
>"No I suppose not," I chuckle, taking a step forward, almost falling over again and his hands snapping back on my shoulders to steady me.<br>"Here, let me help you," he laughs again, taking my arm and putting it around his shoulders while placing his hand firmly on the small of my back.

I'd be lying if I said Peter's touch doesn't affect me. There are few people I've ever been this close to before: my grandparents, a couple friends, and the one boyfriend I had. Ever since Granddad's diagnosis, though, it's been awhile since I've been this close to anyone. And his smell...it is intoxicating, a trace of some unknown cologne mixing with the natural scent of his body...not body odor...just the smell of a guy.

"Thanks," I mutter, tightly gripping his jacket as my feet are wobbling beneath me.  
>"So...2011," he begins, trying to make small talk as we slowly begin walking.<br>"2011," I nod, only repeating what he said.  
>"What's it like?" he inquires, his fingers bearing holes in my side as I stumble and slip the entire way down the hill.<br>"If I tried to explain to you what it was like I could go on for months," I laugh, my arm loosening around his shoulders as the grade leveled out.  
>"I suppose you're right. I was just trying to make conversation," he softly laughs.<br>"It's not that I don't want to talk to you. It's just a lot to talk about and it's so different from your time," I quickly ramble trying not to appear standoffish.

He beams down at me and I feel another blush warm my cheeks, "Sorry."

"For what?"  
>"For being so...all over the place," I wipe my hand over my brow with a sigh, "It's been a very long day."<br>"I think I know how you feel," his gaze drops to his feet, in the icy snow.

I hate lingering on this stupid subject; how we all were transported to this place all unknowingly, and how we're all supposed to save these people we've never even met. It was all too archaic for me...too gloomy.

"If you're hoping for flying cars you might want to give that up," I tell him with a playful smile.  
>"You're joking? The news is always going on about all the new technologies will be available to us after the war!" his shock is so adorably naïve, making me laugh as I slide my hand across his back and loop it through his elbow.<p>

"I'm not. There are no flying cars, no hover boards...clothes made out of aluminum," I laugh, "Robots don't do all our work..."  
>"The future sounds boring," he frowns, making me laugh again, "Is there anything worthwhile in the future?"<br>"Well, yeah, I guess," I shrug my shoulders.  
>"You guess?" he furrows his eyebrow, "What about the radio of the future? The one with the little glass box where you can watch what happens instead of just listening to it? Or what about space travel? Are there people living on the moon?"<p>

"You're starting to sound like Lucy," I giggle, looking up ahead at the littlest Pevensie.  
>"Well I've got a million different questions running through my mind!" he excitedly tells me, "I would've asked you sooner but...I was afraid."<br>"Afraid? Of lil' ol' me?" I tease, beginning to relax a little around the tall boy.  
>"I didn't want to you to get the wrong idea. I didn't want you to think I was only talking to you to find out about the future," he sighs, enthusiasm fading in his eyes.<br>"No worries," I smile up at him, "Ask away."

But we don't talk about the future.

In the short conversation we have I learn about the Pevensie's home and the stresses Peter faces in England with his father gone and I tell him about my negligent parents and all the suppressed feelings I harbor for them. Talking with Peter is such a release; I never would have imagined opening up so much for this boy but I'm glad I did.

In this strange and unpredictable world I've found a good friend and I instantly begin to worry what will happen when the time comes for us to return home.

"Come on you two! We've found a cavern to spend the night!" Lucy shouts, vanishing somewhere among the rocks.  
>"Thank God," I breathe a sigh of relief.<br>"You said it," Peter agrees, hand snuggly on my back as he helps me into the cave.

Mr. Beaver is already hard at work, trying to build a fire to warm the cold, stone cave as Mrs. Beaver sit near Lucy, whispering words of comfort. Peter and I unlink our arms and Susan roughly yanks him away from me with a spiteful glare. Rolling my eyes, I sluggishly curl up next to Lucy in front of the poorly growing flames, shuddering as the cold rock touches my bare legs.

"Did I do something wrong?" I ask Lucy with a glance to Susan who was reaming Peter for no good reason.

Lucy looks at me before following my gaze to her older siblings.

"I think she's just scared," the little girl sighs, "We all are."

A deep sigh passes my lips and I turn back to the flickering, orange flames. Being scared isn't an excuse for acting like a total 'yatch...especially when the rest of us are just as scared.

"Are you all right, dear?" Mrs. Beaver's sweet voice breaks my staring contest with the fire as I gaze up at her, returning her kind smile.  
>"Yeah, I'm just a little tired," I clutch my jacket tighter around my shoulders.<br>"Well get some rest, it'll do you some good," she nods her head, patting me on the shoulder with her furry brown paw.

This morning, I woke up alone, and in my soft, warm bed in New York; and now...I'm falling asleep in a dank cave, surrounded by people from the past and talking beavers belonging to some fantasy land.

The fear finally caught up to me...and I can only hope that when I wake in the morning I find out this is all just a dream.

* * *

><p><em>The room I'm in is made of sleek, white marble and adorned in royal colors of silver and blue, but the room is dim with hardly any light. In the dark shadows, I can make out ten large suits of armor each tucked away in an alcove of stone and in the center, where I stand, is a circular, raised, disc with several grooves embedded in the white rock.<em>

_"What are you so afraid of?" a clear, deep voice suddenly asks, seemingly bouncing off the walls and coming from every direction.  
><em>_"Who's there?" I call back, trying to pinpoint the voice's origin, but there is no one else in the room.  
><em>_"What are you so afraid of?" the voice repeats.  
><em>_"I don't belong here!" I shout back, "I don't know if you've noticed but there's a war going on here and apparently I'm supposed to fight in it! I just want to go home!"_

_"Home? What home? A home where your parents forget they even have a daughter, where nobody even knows you exist at school, where all you have to look forward to is visits with your grandparents, grandparents who lied to you all these years."  
><em>_"What are you talking about?" my voice wavers.  
><em>_"They knew," is all it says.  
><em>_"Knew? Knew what!"_

_There is no response._

_"Knew what you bastard! Answer me!"_

_But there is no answer._

The next morning I wake up, the feeling of soft fur flush against my skin. My eyes flutter open and I see the two beavers curled up against me.

"Oh I hope you don't mind, dear, but you were shivering in your sleep," Mrs. Beaver yawns, waking Mr. Beaver.

I nod with a chuckle; the thought of sleeping with beavers just seems funny to me.

"What's so funny?" Peter grumbles, stretching out his arms, his hair sticking out at all angles.  
>"Well your hair for one thing," I giggle, standing and ruffling it up some more.<br>"Yours isn't the prettiest either," he bats my hand away with a childish smile.  
>"Up and at 'em, girls. We've still got a ways to go!" Mr. Beaver cheerfully shakes Susan and Lucy.<p>

I let out a groan as I realize how far we actually still have to go. Even though I had no idea that I would be trekking through ice and snow, I deeply regret wearing this dress.

It doesn't take long for us to pack what little belongings the beavers brought and we are well on our way down the rest of the cliff, me falling behind the group, lost in my thoughts as I wonder what will happen when we reach this Aslan's camp.

"Your feet must be cold."

His voice startles me and I visibly jump making him laugh. I wasn't aware that he was walking with me.

"Not so much. They hurt more than anything. These aren't exactly hiking boots," I sigh looking at my heel-clad feet.  
>"Do all girls in the future wear those shoes?" he asks, examining my strappy black shoes.<br>"Oh no. God no. Only on certain occasions. This was the only black I had for my Granddad's funeral so I had to wear these," I say with a weak smile.  
>"I'm sorry," he whispers.<br>"It's fine," I brush away my unshed tears.

That's all I need, to have this boy see me cry after he's already seen me have a couple meltdowns.

"Your sister really doesn't like me," I notice the slight glances Susan is shooting at me from up ahead.  
>"She's not real fond of me at the moment either," he mutters, mirroring his sister's looks.<br>"Why? It's not your fault your brother left," I point out.  
>"No, but it is. I was too hard on him...I've always been too hard on him," Peter shakes his head, guilt weighing heavily in his voice.<p>

He really holds the weight of Edmund's betrayal, truly believing it's his fault.

"But you were only trying to take your father's place—"  
>"And I shouldn't have even tried!" his voice rises to my surprise, "I'm nothing like my father. I can never be a-as brave or as strong as he is. It was because I tried that Edmund thought he could go to the White Witch."<br>"Peter it isn't your fault," I whisper, placing my small hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him.

His chest heaves up and down as he controls his breathing.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand. You have no idea what it's like, you have no siblings, your father isn't fighting in a war," he bitterly challenges.

I draw away from him, removing my hand with an annoyed frown crossing my lips.

That was a little unnecessary.

"Maybe I don't, but that doesn't mean that you, and your sister for that matter, can go around treating people like they're dirt when things don't go your way," I bark, the anger coming out of nowhere, "Grow up, Peter."

With a slight shove, I quicken my pace to fall in step with Lucy.

"What were you two fighting about?" she curiously asks me, a small twinkle in her eye.

Her question brings a thoughtful sigh to my lips, and I realize how pointless that whole bout was.

"I have no idea," I shake my head, "I don't know why I got so worked up."  
>"Peter has that effect on people," Lucy giggles.<br>"So I've noticed," I mumble, narrowing my eyes at the back of Susan's head as she sideswipes me.  
>"You know what I think? I think he fancies you," Lucy smiles, her brilliant eyes shining up at me.<p>

My eyes widen and chance a small glance back at Peter whose sullen gaze is directed at his feet.

I wasn't quite sure how to respond to that.

Of all the scenarios I've thought about between me and Peter that honestly wasn't one of them.

"And how did you come to a conclusion like that?" I humor her with a smile.  
>"Oh please, it's so obvious! He looks at you when you're not, the way he always tries to walk near you all the time, and he picked an argument with you and he only does that when he's either nervous or feeling bossy," she emphatically concludes.<p>

I laugh at her thought process, as plausible as it sounded.

"That all may be true but that hardly means he likes me, Lucy," I suddenly find myself smoothing out my hair.  
>"Susan seems to think so too. I think that might be another reason why she keeps glaring at you," she whispers to me, pointing at Susan.<p>

Lucy brings up a good point.

I really haven't done anything to Susan since coming here; maybe Peter does like me and I'm distracting him from getting his brother back and that's why Susan is so determined to hate me.

That sounds absolutely ridiculous...right?

Lucy notices my lack of words and gives me a pointed smirk.

"Oh quiet, you," I ruffle her short hair with a playful smile.  
>"One leg in front of the other, your majesties!" Mr. Beaver calls back to all of us.<br>"I don't think I can walk much faster," Peter groans, catching up to Lucy and me, his eyes searching for some kind of forgiveness in mine.

It's hard not to meet his gaze even though his former words had some bite in them.

"It's been hours and we haven't had a rest," Susan echoes.  
>"Come on, humans, while we're still young," Beaver urges again, making me chuckle as we all roll our eyes.<br>"If he tells us to hurry one more time," Peter lets Lucy climb onto his back, "I'm going to turn him into a big, fluffy hat."

Peter's statement lightens the mood of our little group but the very next second that mood is shattered, quickly forming into panic.

"Hurry up! Come on!" Beaver shouts.

"He _is_ getting a little bossy," Lucy comments.

"No! Behind you! It's her!" Mrs. Beaver shrieks pointed to a cloud of swirling snow racing toward us.

My heart jumps into my throat as the monstrous sled barrels toward us.

"Run!" Peter yells, dropping Lucy to the ground and taking up her hand.

He doesn't need to tell me twice.

It doesn't matter that my feet are red and raw from hiking on heels; I do _not_ want to die in this place. We rush into the edge of the woods, ducking down into a small nook in the ground. The sound of the bells stops short of the forest edge and I grip tightly onto Peter's arm, forgetting everything we had said to each other, as the witch stands just above us, merely looking. What feels like hours later, the shadow disappears and so does the sound of her footsteps, and I loosen my hold on Peter's arm.

"Maybe...she's gone," Lucy hopefully suggests.  
>"I suppose I'll go look," Peter volunteers and I sharply look at him like he's nuts.<br>"No! You're worth nothing to Narnia dead!" Mr. Beaver hisses pushing him back down while he steps out of the safety of the niche.

Peter looks at me for reassurance and I nod, drawing him back in as he lets Mr. Beaver go.

"Neither are you Beaver!" Mrs. Beaver protests, reaching out to her husband.  
>"Thanks, sweetheart," he holds her paw momentarily before climbing out and up above.<p>

Mr. Beaver's footsteps fall silent on my ears and my eyes close in apprehension. I can't see any way out of this situation if the witch is still here, and my heart pounds violently against my chest with each passing second.

It's a wonder nobody else can hear it.

Then I feel a hand on mine, and I open my eyes to see Peter gently squeezing my hand in comfort. I meet his gaze and clench his hand back, just waiting for Mr. Beaver to return.

And it isn't long until he does, scaring the wits out of Lucy.

"Come here! Come here! I hope you've all been good because there's someone here to see ya!" and he disappears again, leaving us all panting from the scare he gave us.

We slowly move from our hiding place and back to the edge of the wood, my mouth nearly dropping at the sight of the tall, burly man in front of us.

_Santa Claus?_

Lucy gasps in pure delight, rushing forward with a bright, cheerful smile.

"Merry Christmas, sir," she beams.  
>"It certainly is, Lucy, since you have arrived," he vigorously nods.<br>"Look, I've put up with a lot since we got here, but this—" Susan takes the words right out of my mouth.  
>"We thought you were the witch," Peter interjects, also stepping forward.<br>"Yes, sorry about that. But, uh, in my defense I've been driving one of these longer than the witch," he tugs off his gloves.

"I thought there was no Christmas in Narnia," Susan wonders aloud, curiously peering at the elderly man.  
>"No. Not for a long time, but the hope that you have brought, your majesties, has finally started to weaken the witch's power. Still, I daresay, you could do with these," and he turns to his sleigh, pulling out a large velvet sack.<p>

"Presents!" Lucy excitedly exclaims, grasping at the soft pack, and I can't help but chuckle at her childish enthusiasm. Though, I do have to admit I'm pretty excited at the prospect of an actual gift from Father Christmas.

He turns to Lucy first, "The juice of the fire flower, one drop will cure any injury. And though I hope you will never have to use it," he hands her a dagger.

A dagger?

My God, is he serious?

"Thank you, sir. I think I can be brave enough," she hesitantly admits.  
>"I'm sure you could. Battles are ugly affairs," he regrets, turning to Susan next, "Susan. Trust in this bow and it will not easily miss."<br>"What happened to 'battles are an ugly affair?'" she worriedly takes the weapon.

Father Christmas lets out a hearty laugh handing her something else, "Although you don't seem to have a problem making yourself heard, blow on this and wherever you are, help will come."

"Thanks," she softly says.  
>"Evelyn, dear, step forward," he beckons to me, forcing me to come out from my safe spot behind Peter.<br>"Although you may not be involved in the prophecy, your place here in Narnia is just as vital. Take these," he hands me an elegant white bow and a quiver full of blue-fletched arrows, "They require great skill but you'll find the arrows will replace themselves."

"I...understand, sir," I nervously fit the belt around my shoulders, the quiver securely hanging behind my back.  
>"As your duty is two-pronged, there will come a time when you need to confront your fears upfront," and he hands me two, sheathed, long-knives and I put these, too, on my back, securing the leather belt in front of me.<br>"Don't not question your ability," he pats my shoulder, calling out Peter's name last, handing him a long-sword and silver shield emblazed with a mighty, red lion.

If it's possible, my heart beats even harder; this is all really happening, Father Christmas just gave four _children_ weapons, telling us that we are fighting in this war. Fretting over this fact, my fingers glide over the arrows on my back, strangely feeling familiar in my hands and giving some kind security.

Now if the witch attacks me I can at least try to shoot the bitch.

"Now! I must be off. Winter is almost over, and things do pile up when you've been gone a hundred years," he chuckles, turning to us before climbing in his sleigh, "Long live Aslan. And Merry Christmas!"

A swell of pride swells in my chest and a smile spreads across my face as he snaps the reins, speeding away.

"Good bye!"  
>"Merry Christmas!"<p>

We all cheer as he shrinks into the distance and Lucy turns to her siblings, "Told you he was real."

I let out a laugh, patting her shoulder and enjoying the sheepish looks on her siblings' faces.

"He said winter was almost over," Peter thoughtfully says, "You know what that means? No more ice."  
>"Oh no," I shake my head, matching his worried look.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>All reviews and PM's are greatly appreciated!<strong>


	4. Learn to Fly

**Ummm yeah, chapter 4!**

**The usual disclaimer applies**

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><p>Just as Peter suspected, the river is flowing freely; only a slim patch of ice stretching the width and I hardly think it will be strong enough to support our weight.<p>

"We need to cross, now," Peter urges.  
>"Don't beavers make dams?" Lucy asks.<br>"I'm not that fast, dear," Mr. Beaver throws up his hands.  
>"Doesn't matter we're going to have to cross," I start down the cliff without the others.<br>"Come on," Peter grabs Lucy's hand.

"Wait we need to just think about this for a minute!" Susan argues, making me grumble as I hold up for them.  
>"We don't have a minute," Peter reminds her.<br>"I was just trying to be realistic," she says.  
>"No. You're trying to be smart. As usual," Peter chides and I smirk, finally seeing Susan put in her place.<p>

They all start forward and I dash on, reaching the bank and finding the rush of the river more terrifying now that I'm much closer. Looking back at the others, I read the same fear on their faces. Peter is the first one to step forward, attempting to take a step on the ice, only to jump back as the ice gives way underneath him.

"Maybe I should go first," Mr. Beaver offers.  
>"Maybe you should," Peter agrees worriedly nodding his head, and Mr. Beaver leaps out onto the degrading ice, it groaning and crunching even under his small form.<p>

"You've been sneaking second helpings, haven't you?" Mrs. Beaver accuses.  
>"Well you never know which meal's going to be your last, especially with your cooking," Mr. Beaver jokes despite hopping over thin ice.<p>

Mrs. Beaver lets out a nervous chuckle, stepping out onto the frozen river as well. I take it upon myself to follow her with a wary step and hold out my hand for Peter and Lucy to follow. The path is slow and torturous, knowing that any step we make can send us into the icy water.

"If mum knew what we were doing," Susan begins again.  
>"Mum's not here!" Peter shouts.<p>

I shake my head at that girl, thoroughly annoyed. She needs to get a grip on herself, this isn't pretend anymore.

Chunks of ice and snow come crashing down from the waterfall and I look up to see the wolves running across to cut off our path.

"Oh no!" Lucy cries.  
>"Run!" Peter surges forward, Lucy in tow.<p>

The wolves are too fast for us and have us surrounded in seconds one of them leaping at Mr. Beaver and easily wraps its jaws around him. Peter draws his heavy sword brandishing it in front of him, clearly inexperienced.

"Put that down, boy," the other wolf growls, "Someone could get hurt."  
>"Don't worry about me! Run him through!" Mr. Beaver struggles with the other beast.<br>"Leave while you can and your brother leaves with you," the wolf promises.  
>"Stop, Peter, maybe we should listen to him!" Susan shouts.<br>"Smart girl," the wolf chuckles.  
>"What if he's lying?" I ask aloud, stringing an arrow to my bow, aiming it at the wolf attacking Mr. Beaver.<p>

"Aw come on, this isn't your war. All my queen wants if for you to take your family and go," the wolf says, inching closer.  
>"Look, just because some man in a red coat hands you a sword doesn't make you a hero! Just drop it!" Susan panicks.<br>"What's it going to be son of Adam? I'm not going to wait forever, and neither is the river," he growls.

A low groan emanates from the left in the ice of the waterfall and the solid form begins to violently tremble.

"PETER!" Lucy shrieks.

The next thing I know, I feel my hold on the taught string release and the arrow soars straight through the wolf's shoulder as he releases Mr. Beaver and lets out a yelp. The Pevensies all look at me with shocked faces before bullets of ice shoot out from the waterfall allowing water to spring through.

"Hold on to me!" Peter then orders, raising his sword and driving it through the ice, sending the final cracks through the sheet of ice as the waterfall bursts through its wall.

A wave of freezing, cold water washes over us, driving our ice float away from the wolves. Our small raft is driven under the surface, the feeling of the cold water stabbing needles into my body. It's only a few seconds later when we resurface, gasping for air. My hand reaches for Peter's coat and my other arm secures Lucy against her brother. Somewhere down the rush of the river, I feel Lucy and myself beginning to slide off and she lets out a scream, causing Peter to wrap his arm around my waist to hoist me back onto the float with Lucy. The beavers soon catch up to us and swim us over to the shore as some of the larger bergs of ice disperse.

Susan climbs onto the bank first, followed by Peter. I'm helping Lucy off when she slips and crashes back into the water, being swept down the shore. There isn't a second thought in my mind when I dive in after her, leaving the safety of the ice float.

"Gotcha!" I wrap my arm around her, reaching out to a root on the shore and boosting her up first.  
>"Oh, Evi!" she gasps, throwing her arms gratefully around my neck.<br>"Come on, I hear the others," I pull her down with a smile, and climb to my feet, making sure I have a good hold on Lucy's shoulders.

"LUCY!" I hear Susan scream as we reach the others.

"Has anyone seen my coat?" Lucy asks, rubbing her shoulders to try and warm herself up a bit.  
>"Don't you worry, dear, you're brother's got you well looked after," Mr. Beaver nods.<br>"And I don't think you'll be needing those coats anymore," Mrs. Beaver observes.

I turn and notice a flush of pink on a nearby tree that seems to be growing with every second. Despite the obviously warming temperature, my body shudders from the cold. Without another word, though, I continue on. As we continue walking on in silence, the snow quickly gives way to fresh grass and vibrant trees, no snow to be seen but behind us.

"I think it's time to dump these coats," Peter suggests, tugging off his own heavy fur coat.

Susan and Lucy follow suit while I tentatively stand by, running my fingers through my damp hair.

"Aren't you warm, dear?" Mrs. Beaver asks me, seeing that I'm not discarding my coat.  
>"Oh I'll be all right. It's not as heavy as it looks," I shake my head, pushing my wet hair out of my face.<br>"Don't be ridiculous, you'll roast," Peter insists, stepping behind me to help pull off my coat.  
>"But I don't want to take it off," I spin around placing my hand on his, effectively stopping his motion.<br>"Why not?" he chuckles, flashing me a smile.  
>"Because this dress has no back," I whisper, glancing in Susan's direction.<p>

He blinks his eyes a few times, and looks at me a moment with a face I can't quite place.

"Look, don't worry about her. It's not your fault, that's just the style of the time...apparently," he turns me back around, beginning to slide off my coat.  
>"If you say so," I heave a heavy sigh, not at all convinced as I let the black coat slide down my arms.<p>

After my coat is off, I don't hear a word from Peter and quickly glance at the others who are idly standing by, enjoying the warm air. That warm air breezes against my arms, sending chills down my back. I have never felt so self-conscious in my life. The dress really isn't a big deal, but in front of people from a completely different time it's a _huge_ deal. I shyly turn back around to gauge his reaction.

"I told you," I take my coat back.

He nervously clears his throat and sends me a slight smile.

"It's not that bad. Really," he encourages, taking the coat back and draping it over a nearby branch.  
>"Sure," I roll my eyes, securing my weapons onto my back.<br>"Come along, humans, not too far now," Mr. Beaver starts the journey again.

The fact that I'm exhausted slips right out of my mind as the full beauty of Narnia comes into sight. It's like an unexplored country not tainted by any kind of machine or human disturbances. Everything is so full of color and life, it takes my breath away.

Granddad is right, I do love this place.

"I...wanted to thank you...for saving Lucy."

Imagine my surprise when I look over to see Susan walking with me.

"And to apologize for the way I've been acting...This place is just so overwhelming and I'm just so worried about our brother," she continues.  
>"I can understand that," I let out a knowing laugh, "I mean, one minute I was at my Granddad's funeral and the next I was talking to a fox."<p>

Susan and I laugh, clearing some bad air between the two of us for the time being. It takes guts to own up and I can respect that.

"It really is a pretty dress. Certainly not something I would wear but it fits you well," she acknowledges.  
>"I don't think you would wear something like this for the next forty years," I laugh.<p>

The Beavers say we are only a few minutes from Aslan's camp and Susan and I pretty much talk the rest of the way, mostly about Narnia since we really don't have much in common, but we can relate enough to make the conversation civil. She admits it's taken her up until now to really accept this place for what it is...real. For me it hasn't taken much to realize that this place is real; everything about it is just so beautiful.

It's the fighting the war part that I have issues with.

I have nothing to do with this place, and I find it hard to believe that I'm the heir to some legendary Narnian General and must step up into that role.

But then again...the way Granddad spoke before he died and the way I felt so natural simply letting that arrow fly into that wolf...it's all a bit too familiar.

"Good to see the two of you getting along so well," Peter teases, coming up alongside his sister.

Susan and I roll our eyes at him.

"It's not like you did anything to encourage that," she accuses.  
>"What was I supposed to do? Any mention of her and you went off on me," Peter defends himself, sending them into a bicker.<br>"Look!" I interrupt their feud, seeing the tips of gold and red tents up ahead, "We're here!"

A new kind of excitement and anticipation washes over me and I run ahead of the pack. I can't explain what it is. I knew we were going to see Aslan this whole time and I really didn't care who Aslan was. Now, though, it all suddenly seems to make sense. In this world, we matter, I matter, we can change this world and with Aslan's help we can win this war. I suddenly realize that we are all a part of this world.

"Evi! Hang on a minute!" I hear Mr. Beaver call and then I feel a hand on my arm.  
>"What's the rush?" Peter chuckles.<br>"Sorry. I just got so excited," I pant, feeling another blush growing across my cheeks.  
>"This coming from the girl who wanted nothing more than to go home," he laughs again as the others catch up.<br>"Come along, dears," Mrs. Beaver hurries us along.

Before we even reach the center of camp, the creatures of Narnia are staring and I can't decide who is staring more: me or them. The Narnians are a whole mix of beasts: centaurs, leopards, satyrs, and others I don't have names for. I turn and see that a whole slew of them are following us to Aslan's tent, and I'm not quite sure how to take that.

"Why are they all staring at us," Susan nervously whispers.  
>"Maybe they think <em>you<em> look funny," Lucy jokes, making me giggle as Susan shoots me a critical look.

I pat the top of Lucy's head and she smiles at me, taking my hand in hers as we approach Aslan's tent. Peter takes charge, drawing his sword and nobly holding it out to the centaur who stands before us.

"We have come to see Aslan," he announces as a wave of whispers spread throughout the crowd.

The centaur takes a few steps back with a nod and the sound of clanking armor behind us causes us to turn and see every Narnian bowing down. When we turn back, the most magnificent, most beautiful lion I've ever seen steps out of the tent and I'm brought to my own knees out of pure respect.

"Welcome Peter, Son of Adam. Welcome Susan, Lucy, and Evelyn, Daughters of Eve. And welcome to you Beavers, you have my thanks. But where is the fifth?" his deep voice requests an explanation.

"It's why we're here, sir," Peter answers, "We need your help."  
>"We've had a little trouble along the way," Susan continues.<br>"Our brother's been captured by the White Witch."  
>"Captured? How could this happen?" Aslan wonders.<p>

The Pevensies were silent at this question and it is Mr. Beaver who answers for them, "He...betrayed them, Your Majesty."

"Then he has betrayed us all!" the centaur determines, stirring the crowd.

I find that a bit unfair, it's not like Edmund really knew what this whole world was about. How can they hold him accountable?

"Peace, Oreius. I'm sure there's an explanation," Aslan looks to the Pevensies once again.  
>"It's my fault really. I was too hard on him," Peter regrets and I can't help but scream at him on the inside.<p>

It's not his fault!

"We all were," Susan adds.  
>"Sir, he's our brother," Lucy quietly pleads.<br>"I know, dear one, but that only makes the betrayal all the worse," he sighs, "This may be harder than you think."

I can't help but think when has anything ever been easy since we've been here?

"For now, let's get your four into something a little more appropriate," he nods to Oreius.


	5. Just a Feeling

**I feel like an updating fiend lately, haha. Anyway, this chapter is pretty lengthy at about 12 pages in Word but there's more Evi/Peter, a new OC, and Edmund makes an appearance! I love Edmund...just to let you know :)**

* * *

><p>"Your Majesties Susan and Lucy will share the tent on the left while Your Majesty Peter will be in the one on the right. Lady Evelyn you'll be in the center," Oreius informs us as we come across the three tents he mentioned.<p>

To all our surprise, another human emerges from the center tent. He appears to be a few years older than Peter and me but is dressed in a dark blue, hooded tunic, under a deep brown jerkin. He too has a quiver strapped to his back, but a long-sword similar to Peter's at his hip.

"Your Majesties and milady," he addresses us in accented English with a bow.  
>"This is Lieutenant-General Finnick. Finnick and I will start your training, working extensively with King Peter and Lady Evelyn," Oreius explains.<p>

Peter and I each shoot either the same questioning look as we hesitantly step toward our respective tents. Finnick, with an attractive smirk, graciously lifts the tent flap for me as I walk into the ornate and surprisingly large tent. Actually, it's fairly comparable to the tent in Harry Potter in the way it seems to be average on the outside but practically a full-sized apartment on the inside. Then I notice another person's belongings on one side and I look to Finnick for an explanation.

Really? I'm sharing a tent with this guy?

"For reasons that will be explained in greater depth later, I will be sharing this tent with you. No worries, though, I'll leave you be while you change and get some rest and we'll begin your training afterward," he tells me with a charming smile, and I can't help but smile back at him.

With a slight bow, he walks back through the tent flap in a few wide strides.

Finnick.

An interesting name.

I'm terrible, I'm already checking out another guy in this place but his body language just screams confidence and sex appeal.

And he certainly has a lot of it with his disheveled brown hair, warm brown eyes, strong chiseled features...and he's clearly got some muscle beneath that tunic, being a soldier and all.

Yeah, I'm shallow, so what.

With a satisfied smile to myself, I spot my wardrobe in the corner and a bit relieved to see that it isn't a full-length gown. Instead, it is an archer's tunic exactly like Finnick's, complete with the jerkin and all the detailing that comes with it. I warily glance over my shoulder at the tent flap before tugging off my dress and quickly changing into my...uniform, I suppose. The fabric is soft like silk and feels so light it's like I'm wearing nothing at all, but I can also tell it's incredibly strong and durable. After I put on my new clothes, I suddenly remember how exhausted I am and collapse on the cot to my right. The moment my head hits the pillow, is takes only seconds to fall asleep.

_I'm again the marble room._

_"You got what you wanted," the same hidden voice speaks to me, though, this time I'm less startled.  
><em>_"And what's that?" I reply, pulling out my bow.  
><em>_"In Narnia, you will come to face all the pain, terror, and love you wanted to desperately in your world. You got what you wanted, so you better be prepared to handle it," it seems to taunt. _

_"You seem skeptical," I raise, my arrow, aiming it around the room, looking for the source of the voice.  
><em>_"You are braver, yes, and you will do well. But your emotions...I'm afraid they've passed on too much empathy," the voice sighs.  
><em>_"Who? Who is it you keep talking about!" I yell._

_The voice falls silent and I let out a yell in a fit of rage._

My eyes softly open and I immediately sit up. I couldn't have been asleep for more than an hour and now that I had woken, I find it much more difficult to fall back asleep.

"Evi?" I hear a quiet voice outside my tent, and I'm surprised to see Peter walk under the flap, now wearing a soft blue tunic.  
>"Couldn't sleep either?" I ask, shifting on the cot to make room for him as he sits down next to me.<p>

He silently shakes his head with a deep sigh.

"Where are Susan and Lucy?" I ask with a confused look.  
>"In their tent," he shrugs his shoulders.<br>"If you don't mind me asking, why didn't you go see them?" I wonder.  
>"I wanted to see you," he genuinely tells me, looking me in the eyes.<p>

I can't help the blush that races across my cheeks, and I know this time he sees it when I see a smile grace his lips.

"Oh," is all I can say and let out a sigh, pulling my weapons on my lap.

Peter gaze follows the weapons to my lap and puts his hand on my bow, admiring the wood-work.

"How do they expect us to fight?" he asks, his smile gone.  
>"They believe we're the new leaders of Narnia," I answer, sliding my bow out from his hand to closely examine the detailing.<br>"But we're not. We're just children," he argues with a frown, and I suddenly feel his hand on my leg realizing he never moved it when I took away my bow.  
>"But...maybe...in this place, we're not," I look at him, putting my hand over his.<p>

Terror and uncertainty shine in his ocean-blue eyes and I don't know how to help him, I don't even know how to help me.

"Aren't you afraid?" he quietly asks.  
>"Of course I am," I chuckle with a small smile, "I've never been more scared in my life."<p>

Peter shakes his head, tentatively brushing my hair out of my face and placing his hand on the small of my back; this gentle touch sends shivers up my spine.

"You are unlike any girl I have ever met," he softly speaks.  
>"Is that a good thing?" I smile, my heart racing as I feel our bodies grow closer to each other.<p>

"My Lady!" I hear Finnick's voice outside the tent and Peter and I break apart from the small moment we shared just as the Lieutenant-General enters.

"High King Peter," he states and nods, certainly not expecting him to be in my tent.  
>"Niether of us could sleep," Peter stands.<br>"No need to explain. Just came to check in but as long as you are awake milady, we might as well start your training," he says with an excited grin and leaves the tent.

"Was it just me or did he seem overly enthused?" I asks, standing next to Peter, slipping my bow over my shoulders.

He chuckles, "Better get out there _milady_."

His taunt brings a smile to my face but it also makes my stomach flip as he, too, leaves the tent.

"So what will you be teaching me?" I ask Finnick as I follow him to a clearing in the forest next to camp.  
>"Teaching? Oh not a thing, milady," he smirks back at me.<p>

I'm not quite sure but my heart may have paused for a moment at that look.

"Then what are we doing?" I eye him up as he stops, drawing his sword.  
>"I told you, training," he simply says lunging at me before I'm even prepared.<br>"WHOA! Are you _insane_?" I ungracefully duck out of the way as Finnick keeps swinging.  
>"Is that how you plan to defeat the White Witch?" he teases, swinging his sword in a circle, giving me a chance to catch my breath.<br>"It'd be nice to get a few pointers before you start _attacking_ me!" I angrily yell.  
>"You might want to start by drawing your weapons," he taunts we a haughty chuckle, pointing at the long-knives on my back with his sword.<p>

With a glare, I pull the blades from their sheaths, barely getting a chance to react as Finnick charges once more. My muscles freeze and I have no idea how to react to his quick reflexes. All I can do is dodge and block a few of his attacks. I don't know how long it goes on for, but I quickly realize that he is growing tired just swinging and missing. So, not knowing what else to do, I keep doing what I'm doing. But he stops, backing up and placing his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

"Clever girl," he smirks again, sending those goose bumps up my spine.

I shrug my shoulders, furrowing an eyebrow at him.

"Again. Only this time, I'm not going to let you wear me down," he stands up straight.

This time, though, I barely give him time to react. I figure I'll just go for it, I mean, he wouldn't _really_ let anything happen to me. Finnick is obviously a better swordsman than me but I'm much quicker than he is. And the weirdest thing is happening. The longer I'm locked into battle with him, the more comfortable I feel and the more I seem to be gaining the upper hand. It's like just by fighting, my brain suddenly learns all these news skills and uses them. The blades flash before my eyes and my hands expertly control them. And then, Finnick's sword is lying uselessly on the ground a few feet away and I have him pinned against a tree with one of my knives against his throat.

"Impressive," he pants, pushing away my knife.

Suddenly realizing what I just did, I quickly back away with my mind reeling.

"How did I just do that?" I ask, slightly afraid of what came over me and recognizing it as the same feeling I had when I shot that wolf.  
>"It's in your blood," Finnick says, stabbing his sword into the soft ground, "You were meant to protect the throne just like your grandfather was."<br>"Did you know him?" I hopefully ask.

He smiles, "Sadly no. I wasn't even born back then. But our grandfather's fought side-by-side until..."

He stops, a look of sadness washing across his face.

"Until what?" I ask, suddenly confused.  
>"Nevermind. All in good time," he flashes another smile at me, "Now. Let's try a little hand-to-hand combat, hm?"<p>

Finnick's upset look, however brief it was, is a bit alarming and what was is that happened with Granddad? Despite all this, Finnick's my best teacher and I have no choice but to go along with him.

"You're not actually going to punch me, are you?" I smirk, pulling off my quiver and bow and placing them by my knives at the base of a tree.

"Not intentionally," he quips back with a handsome smirk.  
>"That's real reassuring, Fin, thanks," I nod.<br>"Did you just call me Fin?" he swings at me, missing his mark.

I just chuckle fighting him back, gaining confidence every second we spend in our spar. He lets out a grunt as I catch him in the stomach. As I try to again, he grabs my arm and throws me to the ground in one swift motion.

"You need to gain some muscle on those skinny bones of yours," he grins down at me.

I swing my leg underneath him, sending him to the ground and with the element of surprise I'm able to easily pin him beneath me.

"You were saying?" I smirk.

I spoke too soon.

Finnick uses all of his body weight to pick me up and roll us over so that he has me pinned.

"Like I said. More muscle," he haughtily chuckles, hands firmly on my wrists above my head.  
>"You are quite arrogant, sir," I relax my body underneath his weight, quirking an eyebrow at him.<br>"It's not like you mind, darling," he suggests, the warmth of his body leaving mine as he stands to retrieve his sword.  
>"Hang on," I scramble to my feet, "Are you insinuating that I'm <em>attracted<em> to you?" I disbelievingly ask him.

Ok, maybe I am a teeny bit attracted to him...but he doesn't have to go and point it out to me!

Arrogant punk.

"Well the whole way up here you were staring at my ass and don't think I haven't noticed you blush when I smirk at you," he smirks at me as if to prove his point.  
>"I was wrong. You're not arrogant, you're <em>insufferable<em>," I fold my arms across my chest.

Our little argument is interrupted; the sound of a rustling in the bushes signaling someone's rapid approach. Finnick instantly jumps in front of me, eyes scanning the brush around us for the unseen threat.

"Grab your weapons," he orders, just as Peter comes dashing through, Aslan quick on his heels.

And that's when we hear the sound of Susan's horn.

"Susan!" I gasp, picking up my bow and sprinting after the lion.

We come upon a small creek, joining a group of others who heard Susan's call, and we see Lucy and Susan trapped up in a tree as the wolves bite at their ankles. Oreius and I each string an arrow but are stopped by Aslan.

"Stay your weapons, this is Peter's battle," he instructs as the wolf taunts Peter.

The poor boy is terrified and in no shape to confront the wolf. What is Aslan thinking, letting Peter try to handle this by himself while we all idly stand by? There are at least twenty capable soldiers around! Let them kill the stupid wolf! With a vicious growl the wolf lunges at Peter and my heart threatens to jump out of my chest.

"Peter!" I scream, running forward only to be held to my spot.

I look back to see that it's Finnick that stopped me. When I turn back to Peter, he startlingly pushes the dead wolf off of him and embraces his frightened sisters. Aslan releases the wolf that he has pinned to the ground and it sprints off into the woods.

"Follow him! He'll lead you to Edmund," Aslan orders.

The small group of creatures rushes past me and I hear Finnick calling my name but all I want to do is be with Peter.

"Come on, Evi," Finnick brings a black stag in front of me.  
>"But Peter..." I look back at him as he worriedly looks at me, wondering if I'm going with.<br>"He's fine. Up you get," Finnick boosts me onto the horse and he gracefully swings up onto his own black steed.

I send Peter a sympathetic look, still not paying attention to Finnick.

"Evelyn!" Finnick barks more urgently, startling me and I click my tongue, guiding the horse forward after the others.

Finnick and I catch up to the group and move to the frontline, carefully tailing the lone wolf long into the night, crossing a vast river and scaling some shallow mountains into a massive forest. The wolf disappears into a dark, heavily wooded part of the forest and we're forced to have the troops wait while Finnick and I scout ahead. Stealthily, we creep through the brush and the trees, remaining hidden as we scan the camp. A great number of the witch's army is camped out in our line of sight, but I get the feeling that a much larger portion is still unseen.

"There's Edmund," Finnick whispers, pointing to a dark-haired boy, bound and gagged to a nearby tree as an ugly dwarf brutally taunts him with a knife.  
>"And half of the witch's army," I also point out, with a bit of sarcasm, earning a frown from Finnick before we head back the way we came.<br>"The witch has him heavily guarded and in her sight at all times," Finnick tells Oreius once we had reported back to the group.  
>"At least fifty from what we could tell," I add.<br>"And that's just what is guarding Edmund," Finnick grumbles, "I don't think bursting in is our best option."

Oreius nods, understanding the predicament we're in but then an idea strikes me.

"Actually, I think it is," I grin.  
>"How do you mean?" the centaur asks.<br>"A diversion," I simply say, seeing Finnick's face brighten up as he understands what I'm saying.  
>"Brilliant," he nods.<br>"Finnick and I will get Edmund while the rest of you distract the witch's attention. It's quick and dirty," I explain, receiving strange looks from the pair.  
>"I'll inform the others and get into place," Oreius bows, trotting away.<p>

It's really not that spectacular of a plan, if you can even call it that but it works in the movies and it's the only plan we've got if we want to get Edmund.

Finnick and I nod to each other, diving back into the woods to our former position where we wait for the attack and plan our move.

"Once Oreius breaks through, I'll cover you while you untie Edmund," I tell Finnick, narrowing my eyes at the squirrely dwarf hovering nearby the boy.  
>"<em>You<em> cover _me_?" he raises an eyebrow at me.  
>"Did I stutter? Besides, that's an <em>order<em>, Fin," I bat my eyelashes at him, abusing my power as his superior.  
>"First, stop calling me Fin. And second, you're not General yet," he sprints from his position as a battle cry echoes around the camp, Oreius' men scattering the witch's soldiers.<p>

With a growl I follow Finnick out, sliding in front of Edmund.

"We're here to help. Stay quiet," I quickly instruct the terrified boy, furiously working at the knots with the clash of battle going on behind me.

He nods in understanding, heavily breathing as I take the gag off his mouth. A painful sting cuts at my wrist as I'm untying Edmund and I fall backward to see another dwarf with his sword drawn. I cradle my wrist to my chest, swinging out one of my blades and knocking the creature out cold.

"You're supposed to be covering me!" I bark at Finnick.  
>"I'm a little preoccupied at the moment!" he retorts, in the midst of a duel with the dwarf who was taunting Edmund earlier.<p>

I growl again, finally able to loosen the rope around Edmund, grabbing his hand and turning to Finnick.

"He's free, let's go!"

Finnick disarms his opponent, tucking him under his arm and swiftly binding him to the tree with the rope. I roll my eyes at him as he sends me a satisfied smirk before helping Edmund up onto my horse. We speed away from the witch's camp, not stopping for Oreius and the other soldiers until we come across a small pond at the foothills of the mountains.

"We should wait for the others here," Finnick suggests, dismounting his horse and letting him rest and drink some water from the pond.

I nod, sliding off as well and helping Edmund down, examining his face to make sure he's uninjured.

"Are you ok?" I ask him.  
>"I'm all right but I'm really tired," he shyly speaks unsure if he should be trusting us.<br>"Well you're safe now. Take a break while we're waiting. I'm Evelyn by the way," I introduce myself.  
>"I thought there were no humans in Narnia?" he asks, sitting down in the grass.<br>"Oh I'm not from here. I was thrown in here just like you and your brother and sisters. Finnick over there is from here, though," I point to him as he washes his sword in the pond.

Edmund's face drops at the mention of his family and I feel bad for the kid. I mean, that's just it, he's only a kid. How's he supposed to know that the witch is bad?

"They're more worried about you than anything," I tell him.  
>"Peter's going to be furious," he sighs, spinning a couple "stones between his fingers.<br>"I think it will be all right. They'll just be glad to see you.  
>"You do realize you're bleeding, don't you?" Finnick's voice suddenly interjects.<p>

I glance down at my arm, seeing a long cut extending from my thumb down to my mid-forearm.

"And just what do you want me to do about it here?" I sarcastically ask, waving my hands around indicating that we are in the middle of nowhere.

Finnick answers by ripping part of his undershirt off and crudely wrapping it around my arm. The blood is quick to soak the cloth, but it will do until we get back to camp.

"General Finnick!" Orieus' voice calls as the rest of the soldiers march over to us.  
>"Any losses?" Finnick immediately asks.<br>"None, sir. A couple wounded but for the most part not severe," Oreius reports, "We also made sure we weren't followed."  
>"I'm not sure that's going to matter much now," Finnick says, mostly to himself as he swings back onto his horse.<p>

Sighing, I help Edmund back onto my horse as best as I can with my bum wrist. It burns like none other but I don't want to say anything...I can't let Finnick have the satisfaction. So, we ride on, at a much slower pace than before, mostly because we're burdened by the wounded. Not that I'm complaining or anything, I like not being in a hurry. Plus, I've gotten to know Edmund better. Once I explained everything that is going on to him, he found that he could trust me and opened up quite a bit, telling me 'what a rotter' he was back home and how he was constantly in Peter's shadow. Edmund, much like Peter and Lucy, is a joy to talk to and I find myself forming another friendship, something that, for me at least, doesn't happen all too often.

"I just wanted to prove to the others that I'm not a burden, that I can do something for myself. But I guess I messed up even that," Edmund sighs.  
>"The road to hell is paved with good intentions," I muse, mostly to myself, "I can understand that. Back home, I've tried so hard to prove to my parents that I'm worth something. No matter what I do, though, they could care less. All they care about is money and power," I scoff, my hold on the reigns inadvertently tightening.<p>

"What's Aslan going to think? I was going to side with the White Witch?" he suddenly realizes, worriedly looking back at me.  
>"But you didn't and you didn't know any better. Aslan will realize that. He'll just be glad that you're ok," I say, patting his shoulder ignoring Finnick's persistent requests to check m wrist.<p>

"What's he like?" he curiously asks.  
>"Magnificent. Absolutely magnificent. Being in his presence just fills you with peace. I haven't had the opportunity to talk to him one-on-one but from first impressions he seems incredibly wise but he doesn't make you feel inferior. You can tell he's in this with us," I think out loud, still completely in awe at the great lion.<p>

"We're coming up on camp," Finnick announces, interrupting our conversation for like the hundredth time.

Only this time I'm less annoyed since we're back at camp, the sun now settling high in the sky and my exhaustion creeping up on me like a disease.

"We'll take Edmund straight to Aslan, follow me," Finnick instructs.  
>"It's alright," I whisper to Edmund, feeling him tense up as we ride up the hill overlooking camp, where Aslan is patiently waiting.<p>

Aslan, not wanting Edmund to be more worried than he already is, bid us a quick word of thanks, sending us on our way. If may have been brief, but Aslan's gratitude filled me with pride and I feel like I'm on top of the world as I walk down the hill back to my tent.

"You need to be more aware during battle," Finnick chirps in my ear as he brushes past me.

Leave it to Finnick to deflate my mood.

"_You_ need to be a better point-man," I counter, not letting him just walk away.  
>"In battle, you're on your own," he hums.<br>"Then what was the point of covering me!" my voice rises, making him chuckle, "Just what is so funny?"  
>"You're so angry all the time," he shakes his head.<br>"Because you're so infuriating," I yell, throwing my hands up.

"Or because you're hiding infatuation with frustration," he smirks, gazing down at me.  
>"Or because you're an infuriating caveman," I argue.<br>"Regardless, you should go to the aid tent, I can tell that wrist is bothering you," he points to my arm.  
>"It's fine," I brush it off, though, totally recognizing the sharp pain that is biting at my wrist.<br>"Oh really?" he grabs my wrist making me wince in pain.  
>"Asshole!" I hiss, clutching my arm to my chest.<p>

"Thought so," he smugly smirks again, "let me take you."  
>"No. I can deal," I shake my head, drifting farther away from him.<br>"No you can't. Let's go," he urges again, clearly getting annoyed.  
>"I'm not going with you."<p>

He lets out an irritated growl, "_You_ are impossible!"

I only smirk at him, getting satisfaction out of his frustration and hearing my name being called by a small Pevensie.

"Evi! Evi you're back!" Lucy cheers, jumping into my arms the other two standing behind her.  
>"Hiya, Lu," I struggle to embrace her with the pain.<br>"Thank you," Susan gratefully smiles at me, "Ed's off resting. Come on, Lucy, let's go change."

Lucy gives me one more smile before following her sister into their tent. I turn to Peter, the smile still on my face. He smiles back and I sigh, happy to be back.

It's good to see him again.

"You weren't too hard on him were you?" I ask with a slight smirk, referring to Edmund.

He just shakes his head, a small smile still on his lips.

"I don't know how to thank you," he tells me.  
>"Ah, don't worry about it," I wave my hand, shrugging it off.<br>"My god, what happened?" Peter worriedly asks, gently taking my arm in his hands.  
>"I got a little scratch, I'm fine," I say more so to Finnick than Peter, seeing him rolling his eyes.<br>"Come on, I'm taking you to get that looked at," Peter determines, taking my uninjured hand and leading me on without a word of protest from me.

I laugh, slightly turning to see Finnick's disgruntled look as I give in to Peter. He pulls me away from Finnick, hand still gently enclosed around mine. I smile to myself, letting him pull me into the tent that is already occupied by several of the soldiers hurt on the rescue mission.

"High King Peter," a petite, water nymph greets him and then bows to me, "Lady Evelyn."  
>"Can you help her?" Peter asks, bringing me forward.<br>"Of course, come with me," she airily says, leading me to a small cot.

She tosses away the dirty rag around my arm, revealing the messy laceration beneath. The pain shoots up my arm all the way to my shoulder as she thoroughly cleans my wound. I feel Peter sit next to me and am instantly comforted. Another patient comes in to the already busy tent and the nymph lets out a frantic sigh, noticeably overwhelmed.

"Go, I can do this," Peter says, shifting to my other side.  
>"Are you sure, your highness?" she inquires, not quite willing to leave her job.<br>"Absolutely. What do I need to do?" he asks, searching the cart of first aid supplies that looks vastly different from one in my home.  
>"Take this phial and spread the oil on the wound, it'll help it heal faster and reduce some of the pain. Take these gauze pads and lightly lay them on her arm. Then wrap it up in this bandage. Thank you, your majesty," she quickly bows, attending to another patient with a gruesome looking leg.<p>

Peter smiles with a nod turning silently to focus on my arm, taking special care not to jostle it too much. He's so gentle with me and his fingers are so soft, it sends chills up my arm.

"I'm not hurting you, am I?" he wonders, noticing the goose bumps.  
>"Not at all," I casually yawn, enjoying the feeling of his fingertips on my skin.<br>"Tired?" he smiles at my sleepy face.  
>"Wouldn't you be if you didn't sleep a wink last night?" I smile back.<br>"I _didn't_ sleep last night," he admits.  
>"Why not?" I curiously ask.<p>

He's silent for a moment before letting out a nervous chuckle.

"I was worried...that you wouldn't come back," he avoids my gaze, finishing the bandage.  
>"You were worried about me?" I raise my eyebrows, not expecting that answer.<br>"Well, yeah," he meets my gaze, a slight blush inching across his cheeks.

I chuckle a bit, examining my freshly bandaged arm.

"Thanks for this," I hold up my arm, "I—"  
>"Lady Evelyn," Finnick comes through the tent flap, eyeing up Peter and me with a certain look I can't quite place.<p>

I sigh, slightly irritated that Finnick interrupted another one of our moments.

"Evi, we've got more training to do," he tells me, briefly glancing at Peter again before leaving the tent.

Wanting nothing more than to sleep, I heave another deep sigh tiredly looking at Peter.

"You better go," I see his face slightly fall.  
>"Yeah or Finnick will explode," I chuckle, standing up.<p>

Looking at his disappointed face again, I lean down and give him a light kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks again," I whisper, seeing his face instantly light up and his hand drift to his cheek.  
>"S-sure," he stutters as I leave the tent smiling at him.<p>

A happy sigh escapes my lips as I leave the tent, my thoughts on Peter. It's hard to believe how close Peter and I are becoming with the short of time we've known each other. I can't believe I let it happen but I like him. He's like the breath of fresh air I needed after Granddad died.

I'm happy when I'm with him.

Ahead of me I catch sight of Finnick, waiting for me at the edge of the forest. Tall and handsome Finnick, who has already demonstrated his protectiveness over me and I can't say that I mind. He smirks at me as I join him and I can't help but despise that smirk of his and at the same time die when I see it.


	6. The Curse

**It's a lazy day for me...the World's Largest Music Festival takes a lot out of you. If you have the means, I suggest making a trip to Milwaukee, Wisconsin for Summerfest. **

**Good times. **

**I also want to apologize for the horrendous formatting of this story and I've gone back and fixed the other chapters. Hopefully now it'll be a bit easier on the eyes to read.**

**Anyway, here's Chapter 6**

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><p>"Finnick, I'm exhausted can't we do training later?" I complain, my feet dragging as I follow him into the woods that are now bathed in an eerie shadow as sun sets.<p>

"We're not doing fight training," he curtly responds.  
>"Then why can't I just go get some sleep," I stop where I'm standing, annoyed that I'm being dragged somewhere else.<br>"I said we're not doing fight training...that doesn't mean we're not training," he tightly grips my arm, "Now come on," and yanks me back on track.

I shrug off his hand, frowning at his piss poor attitude.

"What stick got up your ass," I sneer, suddenly coming upon a clearing.

The moon's white light is casted perfectly on the circular clearing, a massive tree stump directly in the middle. Then I notice, deep in the shadows but still making themselves known, soldiers of all races dressed in the same blue tunic's that Finnick and I are wearing. All are standing at attention and in complete silence, simply waiting for something to happen.

It's weird.

But I slowly step forward to the center of the clearing, just in front of the large stump. I expectantly look at Finnick.

"What is this?" I ask, warily glancing at what appears to be a Minotaur, draped in the shadows to my right.  
>"Before you are instated into the Order you must go through a series of preliminary rites," he tells me, intently peering out into the wood.<br>"Oh great...I'm being hazed," I frown, folding my arms across my chest.

Things are very silent and very still after I had spoken...it's like even the wind is waiting for something.

"What are you waiting for?" I ask, my voice so loud against the unbearable silence.  
>"SHH!" Finnick silences me.<p>

All of a sudden the wind kicks up, throwing all kinds of debris into the air and Finnick steps forward to the swirling mass that is manifesting ahead of all of us. The swirling mass transforms into what looks to be a human face...a male face, staring straight at Finnick.

"Presented before you: Lady Evelyn Cassidy Wood, First Trial, Leonis Codex," he announces to the swirling face, sword drawn vertically before him.

The leafy eyes of the wind-face, direct their attention to me and I suddenly feel very naked and insecure.

"Lady Evelyn Cassidy Wood," the voice is booming and seems to shake the ground itself, "By the deep magic Arma, the following Leonis Codex will be followed to the word so long as you shall live in Narnia. I hereby declare to you that any law not followed be resulted in immediate termination of service and expulsion from the Land of Narnia. The following become effective upon the summation of the third trial."

The face is terrifying enough, now there's a set list of rules I have to abide by?

"And so it is written: For as long as there is a Son of Adam or Daughter of Eve on the throne of Narnia, The Order of Lion and all it encompasses shall be enforced...so it is written, the skills and training received are to solely protect the throne and people of Narnia whilst rejecting self-agenda...so it is written—"

And it goes like that... for hours... as I nervously stand there trying to retain everything the voice tells me. With each passing minute I feel like I'm losing more and more of my freedom and I'm beginning to think I just joined some kind of vicious cult. When it's all said and done, the face went through fifty different rules ranging from the substantial to the minute. After it finished reciting, all the leaves and dirt and branches that makeup the face, simply drop to the ground and the sun begins to rise, washing the sky in grey.

I blink, seeing that all the creatures who had been there during the dark night are now gone, leaving me and Finnick in the circular clearing. The tall man sighs, gazing at me with a sympathetic look.

"Overwhelming, I know," he sighs again, his warmth radiating from him in a comforting presence.  
>"What was that...that thing," I whisper, my eyes still trained on all the debris that litters the ground where the face had been.<p>

The screech of metal against metal slices through the air as Finnick sheathes his sword and I wait for an answer.

"That was the deep magic. That was Arma," he explains, looking at the leafy pile.

Despite still being a little unsure, I nod, not really up to asking any more questions. Finnick doesn't miss this and goes a little more in-depth.

"Arma is who we, the Order, serve...not Aslan," I furrow my eyes, thoroughly confused, "Even the Great Lion serves under Arma...it's why Jadis has been able to have reign over Narnia the past hundred years. Everyone must abide by the deep magic, we being of the Order abide by it a bit stricter to prevent mass chaos from erupting. It's our duty," he says, though, he doesn't seem all that enthused and actually seems quite sad.

Maybe I'm right about losing freedom, then again, why would Aslan let something like that happen?

"Can I go sleep now?" I quietly ask him, my brain still processing all that I've just been through.  
>"Yes," he nods and I start to walk past him but he roughly grabs my arm again, "There's one more thing."<p>

I blink my tired eyes at him simply waiting for him to speak.

"You need to back off the High King," his honey, golden eyes bore into mine.

I look at him a moment, wondering what prompted him to give me an order like that. And then I wonder if he's jealous of what is growing between Peter and me.

"What are you talking about?" I play off, not knowing how else to react.  
>"You <em>know<em> what I'm talking about. Don't let things get further than they are now," he impassively warned.  
>"What Peter and I do is none of your business! Who are <em>you<em> to say something like that to me!" I shout, throwing his hand off me.  
>"Evi, stay away from him or I'll—"<br>"Or you'll _what_?" I growl, shoving him back before I stomp into the thick wood back to the camp.

_Back off_

Why the hell should I? If Finnick is so damn jealous why doesn't he just make a move of his own, it's not like I would reject him.

Wait.

I stop in place. Did I really just think about that? About _Finnick_? The man is insufferable and gets under my skin like I can't even describe. And I barely know him!

What is going on with me?

My brain rattles as I sluggishly reach my tent and sink into the cot that I've spent probably spent about an hour in total. I feel exhausted and dirty. What I would do for a bath...even a short one.

I hear the flap to my tent drop and the sounds of someone moving about. In my exhaustion completely forgot that Finnick and I share a tent and I curse to myself, feigning sleep so he doesn't bother me. He mulls around a bit before I hear him settle into his own cot; I'm glad he didn't try to disturb me, or I probably would've cut his hand off or something.

Stupid Finnick.

Echoes of the code play over and over in my head like a broken record and it makes falling asleep quite difficult. The crisp sound of metal against metal clangs outside as weapons are sharpened for the coming battle and they mix with the sound of Finnick's deep breathing as he sleeps. Reality finally begins melting away into my dreams and I fall into a light sleep.

No sooner had I fallen asleep, though, I find myself being woken.

"Mmmm," I groan, nuzzling my face in my pillow, the belts strapped around my body, since I was too tired to take them off, jingle with their attachments, i.e. my knives and quiver.

A smooth laugh fills my ears and I know immediately it isn't Finnick.

"Are you going to sleep all day?" Peter's silky voice coos in my ear, sending chills down my spine and I couldn't help but smile into my pillow.  
>"Mm hm," I finally bring my face out of the pillow, tiredly looking up at him, "I was up all night again. I don't think I've slept the past two days."<p>

His body weighs down against my legs as he sits beside me, "You were up all night again?"

With a great yawn, I nod and sit myself up next to him. If Peter is around I'm about to waste his company by lying down. My eyes meet his and all I can think of is Finnick's stupid warning. Glancing over at said jerk's cot, I see that he is contentedly sleeping.

"What for this time?" I Peter quietly asks, following my gaze to the sleeping Finnick.  
>"Training," I merely say, my eyes drowsily trained on the floor in a mindless stare.<p>

I'm not allowed to tell Peter of the trials I have to go through before coming into the Order and it only infuriates me more; he's the best friend I have in this place.

"They're training you pretty hard, aren't they?" I feel his soft fingers, tuck my hair behind my ear and I look up into his sympathetic blue eyes.

His move was so simple and ordinary but it speaks volumes to me and I'm sure a slight blush flashed across my cheeks.

"I was going to ask if you wanted to duel with me...but if you're too tired..." he stands as if he already knows my answer.

My hand shoots out to his arm and I stand with him, "No. I'll go spar," I smile, pulling off my quiver.

"All right then," he smiles back at me, leading me out of the tent.

Four hours of sleep is about all I had gotten; when I walk out of the tent the sun is almost at its peak in the sky.

It's almost noon.

Strangely, though, I feel very much awake and ready for the day. Other than the twinge in my arm from the healing wound, I feel extremely fit; even more so than I have felt during swim season.

Peter and I bid good morning to everyone we pass as we scour for an open area to draw our weapons. Toward the end of the camp we run across Susan and the Beavers, arms full of various herbs used for medicine and food.

"Morning Susan, Beavers," Peter greets them with a smile.  
>"Where are the two of you off to?" Susan asks, her bright smile faltering a little when she glances at me.<p>

So much for "clearing the air."

"We're just going to get a little practice in," Peter tells her, walking away as he notices the look she gave me.  
>"You two are going <em>alone<em>?" her voice is low, flashing me another disgruntled look.  
>"Yeah, why not?" Peter amusedly chuckles.<p>

My heart suddenly beats faster at Susan's observation and I can feel it pulsing throughout every inch of my body.

I'm going with Peter..._alone_.

Just the two of us.

_Alone_.

The last time we were alone together I swear we would've kissed if Finnick had not barged in and interrupted our moment. I had no time to prepare for that moment so I wasn't nervous, but now that someone had pointed that fact out to me...I'm terrified!

"Shouldn't Finnick or Oreius go with you? You know, for protection?" she tries to justify herself.  
>"Susan, <em>Evi<em> is my protection. She's supposed to protect the throne," Peter reminds her, looking at me to hurry along.

Susan is not pleased to see me walking with her brother away from everyone's line of sight...even if we are just outside camp.

"Sorry about that. If she's not complaining about one thing it's another," Peter apologizes as we climb a small hill.  
>"S'aright, I'm used to that sort of thing," I shrug my shoulders.<br>"How so?" Peter furrows his eyebrows.  
>"Back home I'm not very well liked. If you haven't noticed, I tend to over react," I say with a slight smile.<br>"I just thought that was a reaction to this place. You're like that _all_ the time?...Must be exhausting," he teases, drawing his sword.  
>"Oh you're funny," I drawl, pulling out my knives.<br>"I like to think so, yeah," he grins, making me laugh.

With a great lunge, Peter initiates our duel, nearly hitting me, but I parry his attack. Our blades brutally clash against each other and it seems Peter is having a similar experience as I did when I first battled Finnick. The longer we fight the stronger and more agile he becomes. So strong, in fact, that he knocks one of my knives out of my hand. Peter lunges again but this time I dodge his sword, using both my hands to twist it out of his own and pressed his sword against his throat while my knife steadily presses against the back of his neck.

"I thought for sure I had you," he pants.  
>"You almost did," I smile, my chest heaving up and down as I hand him back his sword, "That thing is heavy."<p>

He laughs, dropping down into the soft grass and I follow suit, propping myself up on my elbow. Peter sits beside me, peering down into the camp below us.

"I take it...you're staying then?" I ask, seeing him so focused on the Narnians below.  
>"They all believe in me," he sighs, "But I don't know if I do. Lucy almost drowned and Edmund was almost killed. How am I supposed to protect the people of Narnia?"<br>"I think you underestimate yourself," I say, pointing out something rather obvious.  
>"No, really?" he sarcastically smiles.<br>"What else do you want me to say?" I laugh, pushing him over, "I think you can do it. I mean you got two-thirds of your family here safely, including yourself that's seventy-five percent!"  
>"Are you really dividing my family up into a percentage?" he chuckles, still lying spread-eagle on the ground.<br>"You, sir, are a hard man to please," I roll onto my stomach, the side of my body meeting his and my senses tingling at the closeness.

He lifts his head, smiling at me as I feel his hand on my arm, goose bumps erupting in a flurry all across my body. Peter props himself upright, hand drifting to my face, my heart practically jumping into my throat.

"I suppose it's a right good time I thank you properly for saving Edmund," he softly speaks, his hand guiding my face up to his.

In one breath his lips are pressed sweetly against mine, in perhaps the unassuming kiss I have ever had. His lips are so soft and burn pleasantly against mine and I love every second our lips are connected.

_Back off the High King_

Finnick's words are suddenly invading my thoughts and I pull away, a furious blush tearing across my cheeks. Peter doesn't seem to notice my sudden withdrawal and only smiles at me.

The swift sound of hooves galloping our way brings us to our feet, a quite distinctive gap between us. Apparently Peter thinks it's better to appear nonchalant about the whole situation as well. Two silky, black stallions come round the bend, each at least seventeen hands and one of them is rider-less.

The other is mounted by Finnick.

My eyes darken and I fold my arms across my chest as his horse skids to a stop in front of us.

"Mounted training, _milady_," he barks and throwing the reigns at me, clearly annoyed that I was alone with Peter after he had told me to stay away.  
>"Yes, <em>Lieutenant,<em>" I mutter, my voice lined with the same annoyance.  
>"I'll see you later, yeah?" Peter smiles at me and I nod mirroring his smile but then frown when I turn to Finnick, clambering onto the tall horse.<p>

With a click of his tongue, Finnick darts out into barren land, not bothering to wait up for me. My eyes bore into the back of his head as I heel my horse in the side, sending it forward.

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><p><strong>As always, reviews are greatly appreciated!<strong>


	7. I Cannot Pretend

**Hmmm things start to get interesting in this chapter :)**

**Enjoy!**

**As per the usual disclaimer: I own nothing but my OC's.**

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><p>Finnick's frustration manifests itself in his attack, his sword swinging violently and relentlessly. It's difficult just to block him, never mind attacking him. The scorching rays of sun do not help matters and I'm slowly wearing down into nothing as Finnick beats the holy hell out of me. His final blow comes like a hammer and sends me tumbling off the back of my horse, my head cracking against the ground and the wind being knocked out of me.<p>

Finnick's feet drop to the ground with a thud and I roll over onto my back, coughing and wheezing for air, a slight line of blood making its way down the side of my face, it's source burning warm.

"Get up," he insensitively orders.

I shuffle backward several feet away from him, my head still swimming. His eyes are hard as they stare down at me and I feel my head clear, anger boiling inside me. I jump up with a shout, wielding my two blades, surprising him.

"You're a real _ass_, you know that?" I snap as we circle each other.  
>"Is that supposed to be some kind of insult?" he smirks, knowing full well it was.<p>

He lamely swings his sword, only toying with me as I give all-out swings.

"You _knock_ me off my horse!" our blades clash as we still circle each other.  
>"It's not my fault you couldn't stay on," he continues to smirk.<br>"You act like a smug little _prick_! Where do you come off telling me I can't be with Peter?" I shout, attacking him and backing off once more, "Do you get some kind of sick pleasure in watching me suffer?"

That stupid smirk still plays his lips and I'm fed up with not getting a straight answer from him.

"You stupid _ass_! STOP SMIRKING!" I roar, going in for a full attack, meeting his silver blade.

He deftly spins out of the way, tearing my knives out of my hands with his sword, fiercely pulling me up against his body, kissing me full on the mouth. Momentarily forgetting I'm even mad at him, I melt into his body and ardently kiss him back. His fingertips press themselves deep into my body and my knees go weak, something that definitely did not happen when I kissed Peter.

Peter!

I violently push myself away from Finnick and shove him roughly in the chest for good measure.

"What the _hell_ was that?" I yell, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.  
>"A kiss. Why, couldn't you tell?" that oh-so familiar smirk of his returns.<br>"You're a pathetic _bastard_! You go and tell me to stay away from Peter all so you can just go around kissing me! Don't make the mistake in thinking I'm going to let you get away with that!" I point an accusatory finger at him.

"I thought I just did," he calmly folds his arms across his chest.  
>"You're <em>insufferable<em>!" I scream, picking up my blades and storming back to camp.  
>"Where are you going? We're not done training yet!" he calls after me.<br>"That's what you think!"

The hike back to camp is not a pleasant one; I'm in such a bad mood and everyone knows it. Back at the tents, all four Pevensies are merrily eating their lunches when I return. My stomach grumbles loudly for food but I really don't feel being around anyone.

"Evi!" Lucy waves at me.

I meet her gaze and send her a small smile but continue into my tent to retrieve my quiver and bow.

"Evi, sit down and have some lunch with us," Lucy smiles as I come back out, but I shake my head.  
>"Where are you going?" Peter asks, curiously watching me walk away.<br>"To go shoot something," I bitterly answer.  
>"What's got you in such a foul mood?" Edmund asks.<br>"Finnick," I mutter, walking by them all, avoiding Peter's gaze at all costs.

When I walk out of their eyesight, I drop my head and wipe my hand over my brow. What the hell is wrong with me? I kiss Peter and not an hour later I go and full on make out with Finnick, the single person in this world I loathe...maybe other than Susan...the verdict is still out on her.

God, is this what has my life come to?

Something like this _never_ would have happened back home.

Home.

Oddly enough, this is the first time I've actually thought about home in the past couple of days. Trying to get home hasn't really been much of a priority since arriving at the camp and to be honest, I don't know if I really _want_ to go home. Other than the fact that I'm stuck in a pitiful love triangle...I really love this place.

I stand in front of several large targets, mindlessly staring at them while I'm drawn into my thoughts. I have no idea what I'm doing with the bow, I can only hope it's like sword fighting and it will just come to me. My blue-fletched arrows go all over the place; some in the ground a few feet from me, others shoot way past the target. Then again, I'm not really trying but honestly, if I actually had been trying the result probably would've been the same.

It's a couple hours that I stand there, carelessly shooting arrows as my thoughts revolve around more important things. Luckily for me the quiver never runs out, it always replenishes itself just like Father Christmas had said.

"You're doing that wrong," a swarthy voice suddenly speaks from behind me and I jump from surprise, spinning around to see Finnick.  
>"Jesus, can't you just leave me alone for like...ever?" I whine, wishing he would just disappear, "How long have you been standing there?"<br>"Long enough to know you'll never be an archer in _my_ army," he sighs folding his arms across his chest and striding up to me.  
>"Well, I wasn't exactly trying," I frown at him, leaning on my bow.<br>"Good. Then try this time," he kicks the wood out from beneath me and I nearly fall but I catch myself in time.

I grumble, fitting an arrow to the string, drawing it back with my left hand. My arm is exhausted and the shaking proves it, something I hope Finnick doesn't see, but by the look on his face it seems he does. With a loud twang, I let the arrow fly and it soars, embedding itself in the outer edge of the target. My right arm aches with pain from the wound; good thing the leather armguard is there to protect it from bruising.

"I retract my previous statement. There might be hope for you yet," Finnick unfolds his arms stepping closer to me, "Try again."  
>"My arm is tired, Fin, I don't want to do this anymore," I sigh.<br>"That's because you're doing it wrong," he repeats.  
>"Then show me oh great and knowledgeable master," I drawl, voice lined with sarcasm that only makes him smirk.<br>"Master? I could get used to that," he amusedly chuckles, taking my bow from me.

I roll my eyes and watch as he draws the arrow back with his right hand instead of his left like I did. It seems so easy for him; it was like pulling a rubber band back. Then he releases the arrow almost immediately after he pulls back and it hits the bull's-eye.

"You're such a show off," I sneer, taking my bow back, not at all happy to have been shown up by Finnick.  
>"You asked me to show you," he laughs, "Come on. Fit one more arrow."<br>"No. I told you I didn't want to do this anymore," I say again.  
>"I'll help you this time and if you split my arrow, I'll let you stop," he expectantly looks at me.<br>"Fine," I breathe a sigh, fitting another arrow, pulling back on it.

"Ok, stop right there," he speaks from behind me, "Relax your arms."

I do as he says, leaving the bow undrawn and the arrow still fitted to the bow string.

"You're using your arm too much," his voice comes from directly behind me and I can feel his body heat radiate against my back, "Try using more of your back and shoulder muscles. Feel yourself opening as you draw the string back," his firm hands run over my lower back.

I turn around, furrowing an eyebrow at him, "This isn't some stupid ploy to get another kiss out of me, is it?"

"No, now turn back around," he sharply turns me back the other way, his hands confidently on my waist.

A smirk crosses my lips and my stomach flips at the way he bosses me around.

"Draw the arrow back."

This time, I can feel the muscles in my back working and my arm no longer shakes when I pull back. Maybe a little...but that's only because I can feel Finnick's warm breath on the back of my neck and one of his hands still firmly placed on my hip.

"Lower your elbow, more parallel to the ground," he softly instructs, lowering my elbow with his other hand.

When he no longer says anything, I take it as the signal to fire; so I let my fingers relax and the string to snap back into place, the arrow flying straight through Finnick's. A relieved sigh passes my lips and I turn to Finnick, his hands still planted on my hips.

"Thanks," I say, though, with a bit of a hard time.  
>"You are welcome," he nods.<br>"You're still not getting a kiss," I cock an eyebrow, walking out of his hold and taking off my armguard and arm-length shooting glove to let circulation flow to my healing wound.

"Why not? Are you afraid you might like it again?" he taunts, knowing full well I enjoyed the last one.  
>"I have no idea what you're talking about," I play off, looping the bow around my shoulders just above my quiver.<p>

He knowingly chuckles and I silently curse.

Finnick's move was completely crude and unrefined, but I have to admit I thoroughly enjoyed it. It was so spontaneous and unrestricted, something Peter never would've done.

"Here come Susan and Lucy," I say aloud, seeing the two sisters treading down the hill, "Maybe you could give Susan a shooting lesson," I smirk back at Finnick seeing him roll his eyes.

"We came to practice," Lucy beams at me, holding her dagger.  
>"I thought Peter was sending you and Edmund home?" I furrow my eyebrow as I look to Susan.<br>"These people need us. We're not about to abandon them," she stiffly tells me, walking past me to the targets.

If she wasn't so bitter about it, I probably would've been more impressed by her courage. With a shrug of my shoulders, I lie down in the soft grass enjoying the warmth of the sun's bright rays on my face.

"Finnick? Do you think you could come show me how to shoot an arrow?" I hear Susan ask, more sweetly than I've ever heard her voice before.

I peer at Finnick through one eye, smirking at the disgruntled look on his face as I tuck my arms behind my head as a makeshift pillow.

"It would be my pleasure, your highness," he concedes with some reluctance.

There is some satisfaction in knowing that Finnick is interested in me but not Susan, even if I'm not all that interested in him. Sure Finnick and I kissed, and I did enjoy it, but I was kind of caught by surprise, whereas with Peter we had kind of built our relationship up to that point, there was something behind it other than a superficial attractiveness.

Peter may not be the most forward person, but he has integrity and heart, something I admire deeply about him.

I push myself up into a sitting position, observing the Lieutenant distantly teach Susan how to be an archer.

I think I've been greatly underestimating him; there's more to this man than fine looks and snark. I'm just not entirely sure what that is yet. I do know, however, that kiss wasn't just for shits and giggles. Finnick, though he may be a part of this prestigious order, is hiding something.

The way he bosses me around, puts on this mask, and suddenly comes on to me?

Not to mention how he avoided telling me about Granddad.

"I daresay Susan might be a better archer than our future General," Finnick's irreverent voice draws me out of my reverie with a sardonic smirk.  
>"When you're carrying a bow enchanted by Father Christmas I bet anything is easy," I fire back, climbing to my feet and tugging on my leather armband and glove.<p>

"I say, are you jealous, milady?" Finnick teases.

I bite my tongue, securing my weapons to my back as I watch Peter and Edmund come galloping over the hill, locked in a mounted duel. My frown is replaced by a soft smile, as I hear Peter instructing his little brother. It warms my heart seeing them bond like that and I couldn't miss the happiness on Peter's face if I tried.

"Peter! Edmund!"

We all turn to see Mr. Beaver sprinting over as fast as he can with a panicky look.

"Evi! Finnick!"

"What is it, Beaver?" Finnick asks the chainmail-clad Beaver.  
>"It's the witch! She's demanded a meeting with Aslan! She's on her way here!"<p>

Finnick and I exchange dark looks.

"Back to camp!" Finnick orders to the others behind us.

Peter rides up next to me, his arm outstretched and I hold on, pulling myself behind him onto his horse. Finnick jumps onto Edmund's while the girls and Mr. Beaver follow.

"How's your mood now?" Peters smartly asks, peering over his shoulder at me.  
>"We'll see what the witch has to say," I reply, holding onto his waist as the horse breaks into a run back to camp.<p>

Sliding off Peter's horse, Finnick's hands on my waist guide me down and I defiantly push him away, receiving a harsh look as I stand next to Peter.

"Jadis! Queen of Narnia, Empress of the Lone Islands!" a high-pitched voice echoes through the crowd of Narnians , followed by a tall, white woman flanked on two sides by six enormous black minotaurs.

"Someone needs to shut that little dwarf up," I mumble, earning a quiet chuckle from Peter and an elbow in the side from Finnick.

The minotaurs lower the witch to the ground and she steps forward, eyes hostilely directed at Aslan.

"You have a traitor in your midst, Aslan," her icy voice cast shivers all down my spine and I come to grasp that _this_ is the enemy. _She_ is the reason we're fighting.

This is like coming face-to-face with Hitler, the fear radiating all throughout my body and my hands are itching to just grab my bow and fire into her heart. A strong sense of belonging overcomes me as I stare the witch down and I finally understand that I _am _a big part of this war, I owe it to these people to bring this bitch down, as terrified as I am.

It's my duty.

"His offence was not against you," Aslan replies.  
>"Have you forgotten the laws upon which Narnia was first built?"<p>

Aslan lets out a deep, terrifying roar that shakes the ground, "Do not cite the deep magic to me, witch! I was there when it was written."

"Then you'll remember well that every traitor belongs to me," she calmly reminds him, as if she wasn't even phased by Aslan's growl, "His blood is my property."

Peter's suddenly whips out his sword, brandishing it in front of him, and pointing it directly at the witch, "Try and take him then."

"Do you really think mere force will deny me my right, little King?" she taunts, putting Peter back in his place.

I put my hand on Peter's, bringing down his sword before I wield my own weapons out, standing in front of him.

"Care to test that theory? You'll have to go through _me_ before you get Edmund," I growl, my body trembling as I meet the witch's cruel stare.

She's silent a moment as she stares at me and I could swear I almost saw a glint of fear in her black, beady eyes.

"And who might you be, _girl_?" she poses, looking from me to Aslan, Finnick suddenly coming forward only to push me behind him, away from the witch's prying eyes.

Finnick's move doesn't go unnoticed by the Queen and she wickedly smirks at him.

"Hiding Sir Beckett's heir now, are we, Lieutenant Finnick?" she menacingly smiles, "And how did you manage to find her?"

Finnick was silent, strongly sneering at the witch, all the while holding out his arm to protectively keep me behind him.

"She's a pretty one now, isn't she? I wouldn't blame you for trying to keep her from me," she leers, "No matter, General Beckett was traitor to the land of Narnia just as Edmund is now. Her blood belongs to me."

My defiance quickly melts way into panic as my eyes widen and I hold onto Finnick's tunic for reassurance. She's not _seriously_ going to hold me accountable for...whatever Granddad did?

Over Finnick's shoulder I see the witch darkly smile at me, pure malice in her eyes and I shudder once more.

"Aslan knows that unless I have blood, as the law demands, all of Narnia will be overturned, and perish in fire and water. That boy will die...on the stone table...as is tradition," she points directly at Edmund, and I grasp his hand more for my own comfort than his.

"Enough," Aslan silences her, "I shall talk with you alone."

Aslan turns into the tent, making eye contact with Finnick as he does, and the White Witch trails behind him with one of the great minotaurs. Finnick quickly turns around gently holding my face between his hands.

"She can't _really _claim me. Right? I'm _not_ my granddad," I hotly say, my panic forming into tears that cascade down my rosy cheeks.

Finnick's thumb smoothly wipes away my fretful tears and my skin tingles beneath his soft touch.

"No, she can't. I will not let her take you," he determines, the protective overtone of his voice not going unnoticed by me, "Do you understand?"

He's so serious and I wonder where this caring for me suddenly came from.

I silently nod, pushing his hands down practically feeling Peter's constant stare on the back of my neck.

"Go watch the Kings and Queens," Finnick softly orders, "And behave."

I simply nod again as he disappears into Aslan's tent.


	8. Patience and Grace

**Thank you for the reviews! They make me all giddy inside :) especially because I really enjoy writing this story and it's good to know people enjoy it as much as I do. **

**I also want to thank the readers who have added this story to their favorites and alerts lists! I haven't forgotten about you either and I appreciate your interest!**

**Enjoy Chapter 8!**

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><p>The pain in Peter's eyes is hard to miss, and neither is the irritation in Susan's, as I sit down between him and Edmund. It's not like I wanted Finnick's little display of affection, he just did it, and besides, there are more pressing matters at hand. We shouldn't be so distracted when there's a possibility that Edmund might have to go with the witch.<p>

If only I could take my own advice.

Silence spreads throughout the camp like wildfire as we all patiently and impatiently wait for deliberations to be over. Susan boredly examines her fingernails, Lucy practically falls asleep and Edmund uninterestedly picks at the grass. Next to me, I can feel how tense Peter is and all I want is to take him aside and tell him what he saw was nothing. I'm sure Susan would have another field day at that so all I do is lie on my stomach and stare at the ground, watching a tiny beetle maneuver its way in the maze of blades.

"Aslan will fix this, right?" Edmund quietly asks, looking to us all.  
>"I'm sure he will," I respond, giving him a reassuring smile, despite my heart beating furiously in my chest.<p>

"I wonder what your grandfather did," Susan says, not to be mean, more just voicing a thought, even though it does seem rude to me.  
>"I don't think she can take you," Lucy pipes up, lifting her head off her hand.<br>"She'll have to go through me if she tries," I hear Peter growl next to me, and I gaze up at him, meeting his stare.

Susan scoffs and rolls her eyes, throwing a wad of grass in the center of our circle. I send Peter an appreciative smile, one that he returns and I tiredly rest my head against his knee, feeling his fingers rake through my hair.

If I had known that's all it took to make him feel better I would've done it sooner.

It's not long after that when some Narnians begin to stir and we all stand to see the witch emerge from the tent, eyes only on Edmund. I swallow the lump in my throat afraid that Aslan wasn't able to save his life until he, too, comes from the tent with Finnick standing behind him.

"She has renounced her claim on the Son of Adam's blood."

A mountain of cheers goes up, and I happily wrap my arms around Edmund from behind, placing a kiss on the top of his head. Peter pulls me away from his younger brother and wraps his arms around me as well and I can't stop the smile from stretching my lips.

"How do I know your promise will be kept?" the witch's voice cuts through all the cheers, earning dirty looks from all of us and a momentous roar from Aslan that puts her back in her seat.

I smirk, watching her caravan turn around. A sharp couple tugs on my sleeve draws my attention away from a beaming Edmund as I look down at Lucy.

"What is it, Lu?" I smile as she points to Aslan.

Following her direction, my smile fades as I see the lion dolefully hunch over, slowly heading back into his tent. Something was not right with him and looking down at Lucy I can see she's thinking the very same thing.

"You're trials will have to wait."

Finnick's voice makes me jump and I turn, eyeing the impassive look on his face. I search his eyes for some indication of what happened in that tent but he turns away. A frown dawns my face and I glance over my shoulder in the direction the witch left.

"There's going to be a battle tomorrow, isn't there?" I quietly ask.  
>"I must speak with Oreius," he says, ignoring my question, walking past me.<p>

An unsettling pain grows in my stomach as I gaze around at all the happy faces, cheering for Edmund's freedom. It's all too easy for me to slip out of the crowd unnoticed and take a stroll into the woods. Not too far in, I stumble across a small pond alive with sparkling blue and silver fish, all breaching the water in some kind of excitement. Oddly enough, the only thing plaguing my thoughts is my granddad as I sit on a large boulder in the water.

Now, I'm not really a religious person but I feel like the only thing to do is talk to him, to silently pray. Somehow, in this golden clearing, I feel like he'll hear me.

I ask him for strength and guidance, knowing that he must've shown a great deal of it when he fought in Narnia. He was such a brave man, even in the face of his disease and I begin to doubt that I'll even come close to his bravery. I can accept that it's my duty to fight but I just don't know _how_ I will fight.

What do I know about war?

I'm just a seventeen year-old girl from the Midwest.

All I want in this moment is Granddad...and not the ailing old man in the wingback, I mean the great hero of Old Narnia. I want him here so badly it hurts. If he were here, he would tell me to stop being such a damn child. He would tell me to stand up and act like the Beckett I should be. He would take my hand in his and tell me to draw my weapons and fight for the ones I have grown to love. With him here, I would storm back to camp and lead the army to the witch and fight in the name of Aslan.

But he's not.

It's just me.

And all I can do is sit on this rock and cry while I watch the pretty fish dancing in the clear water.

The soft sound of footsteps on the dry leaves tickles my ears and I know I'm no longer alone.

"They're called Dagon."

Tears still staining my cheeks, I turn around on the rock and watch as Aslan sits in front of me.

"In times of conflict, each fish chooses a side and changes color, fighting with the opposing fish. It's their struggle that predicts the outcome of our own," he continues, eyes trained on the pond full of swarming colors of blue and silver, "Of course, wars aren't _really_ determined by fish."

He's able to coax a small smile out of me and I wipe away my lingering tears.

"You doubt yourself," he states, addressing my former tears.  
>"I only pretend to know what I'm doing," I confess, my voice still lined with emotion, "I really have no idea."<br>"I find that hard to believe," he smiles, and I slide down the rock and into the grass in front of the massive lion.  
>"I think I was swept up in the fantasy of this place," I pick at the blades of grass, "I never <em>actually<em> believed I would be fighting in a war...but now it's here and I've never been more scared in my life."

"Do you wish to go home?" he asks, a question I wasn't expecting.  
>"Not at all," I immediately answer, surprising myself with how easy it came out of my mouth, "I love this place."<br>"So did your grandfather," he tells me, lying down in the grass, "And it's because of that love that he fought. I assure you, he was just as frightened. You, Evelyn, are no different from him."

"I wish he was here, Aslan," I sigh, gazing back down at the grass again, "I wish I had known about Narnia sooner...I would've loved to hear him tell me his stories."  
>"He would want you to make your own stories."<br>"Anything I do will be nothing compared to what he did," I shake my head.  
>"Nothing ever happens in the same way twice, dear one, you might be surprised at what you can accomplish," he smiles again, "If you fight for nothing else, Evelyn, fight for your grandfather."<p>

Even after Aslan is gone, his words play over and over in my mind.

_Fight for Granddad_

In those words, I find some comfort.

I might not believe in myself and I might not be able to lead this army...but I wouldn't be his granddaughter if I didn't at least try.

With this in mind, I return to camp just as the sun is setting in the west in a flurry of pinks and oranges. Lucy greets me with a tight hug and leads me to a small table covered with food for dinner. I smile at all the Pevensies, even Susan. My heart's not really into disliking her at the moment.

"Where have you been?" Peter asks, a relieved smile on his face, "I couldn't find you after the witch left."  
>"What? Worried she kidnapped me?" I tease, grabbing a roll from the center of the table.<br>"Or that Finnick swept you away again," Ed chimes in, receiving a hard look from Peter.  
>"He <em>does<em> seem to do that a lot," Susan starkly adds, sipping from her goblet.  
>"Yeah," I watch Finnick walk past our table sending me another annoyed look, "He does."<p>

"So where were you?" Peter repeats, and I could tell he's worried that I might've been with Finnick.  
>"I went for a walk in the woods," I tell him pouring myself some of the cider, "I just really needed to clear my head."<p>

This answer seems to satisfy him and I'm able to eat my dinner without being grilled with questions. After dinner I bid everyone goodnight, sleep weighing heavily on my eyes. I'm about to walk into my tent when Peter calls my name.

"Evi."

I smile at him, closing the tent flap.

"I would've asked you before but I figured you could use a break from Susan's constant glares. Would you come on a walk with me?" he hopefully asks me.  
>"I <em>do<em> need to get some sleep at some point, Pete," I chuckle, not at all intending to go into my tent.  
>"Please? Half an hour, I swear," he pleads and I can't help but smile.<p>

He takes my hand in his and leads me to the woods. We don't walk far and actually end up back at the pond, though, the fish are still as can be as the white moon casts a soft glow on the water.

"I get the feeling that we're on the eve of battle," he says after a few minutes of silently staring up into the sky, "The witch coming to Aslan was a last ditch effort before she attacks."

"Yeah," I echo, already knowing what he said.  
>"It's all kind of surreal, isn't it?" he fully turns to me.<p>

I remain silent still staring out at the moonlit water until I feel his warm hand against my face. His touch is exhilarating, stimulating my senses, something that I've felt every time we touch. My eyes close as I lean into his touch and enjoy the feeling of his hand on my face. When I open my eyes, a strong emotion tugs at my heart as I see the sad look on Peter's face.

Peter has to fight tomorrow too.

What would I do if tomorrow he's killed?

Staring into his blue eyes, I see the reality of that very situation awfully plausible. I don't want to go back, I don't want him out of my sight. I realize that I _do_ have strong feelings for Peter, regardless of what happened with Finnick or how hesitant our relationship was before; I'm not going to let anything happen to him or Edmund or Lucy or any of them.

"Everything's going to be all right," I reassure him with a small smile before pressing my lips against his.

I slightly pull away to gauge his reaction and watch as he gazes down at me before bringing my lips up to his once more, sending a chill down my spine. It's nothing like Finnick's kiss but I wouldn't trade it for anything.

Peter draws back, his thumb stroking the side of my face as he smiles down at me.

"Good night, Peter," I coyly smile, turning to go back to camp.  
>"Good night," I hear him blissfully sigh.<p>

When I return back to camp, I'm met with a cross Finnick, waiting for me outside our tent.

"Where have you been?" he holds open the tent flap and follows me in.  
>"Peter and I went for a walk," I coolly answer, removing all my weapons and all my dark, leather armor.<p>

I'm _so_ looking forward to a full night's rest.

"You and _Peter_?" he repeats.  
>"Yeah."<br>"I thought I said to stay away from him?" he hotly reminds me.  
>"You did," I furrow an eyebrow, "Doesn't mean I have to listen to you."<p>

He angrily throws his own jerkin down on the ground with a fierce look at me.

"I didn't warn you because I'm jealous," he grits his teeth.  
>"Really? Because it sure seems that way," I flash him a feigned smile.<br>"I'm doing this for your own good!" he shouts, throwing the rest of his gear in a pile on the floor.

"My own good? Really?"  
>"Yeah!"<br>"Then what _exactly_ are you trying to protect me from?" I shout back, "Or what about my granddad? What happened with him?"

Finnick remains silent, anger burning in his eyes.

"That's what I thought," I shake my head, "As long as you won't tell me the truth, I don't have to listen to you."

I push past him, blowing out the only lantern lighting up the tent. Finnick's hand holds a tight grasp around my upper arm and spins me around.

"I'm telling you, you need to stay away," he repeats.  
>"I heard you the first ten times," I rip my arm out of his grasp, climbing into my cot effectively ending the conversation.<p>

I'm not going to end whatever Peter and I have all because Finnick feels insecure.

**- x -**

_I let out a groan realizing I'm back in the marble chamber. _

_"What do you have to say to me now?" I growl, my footsteps echoing all around the room as I search once more for the source of the voice.  
><em>_"You're going to have to do better if you want to help win this war," it chastises.  
><em>_"Do better? Haven't I already saved two of the four Kings and Queens?" I retort, folding my arms across my chest.  
><em>_"Now you decide to be cocky?" it leers. _

_"All you've done is spin me riddle after riddle. I think it's high time you start to answer some of my questions," I bark.  
><em>_"You should listen to Finnick," it ignores me, "He knows what will happen if you carry on."  
><em>_"Yeah? Well why doesn't somebody tell _me_!"  
><em>_"Max Beckett didn't listen either."_

_My heart jumps at the mention of Granddad. _

_"You would be wise to listen...it's in your hands now," the voice was suddenly drowned out by a furious wind. _

My eyes snap open and I shoot up into a sitting position, seeing a pink-petaled dryad standing in the middle of our tent.

"I bring grave news from the Stone Table," her airy voice flows through the tent.  
>"Finnick!" I hiss, throwing my pillow at him, startling him awake.<br>"Oi!" he grumbles then spots the dryad.  
>"The witch has slain the great lion upon the stone table as witnessed by the Queens. She marches on our camp as we speak, her army will be here at sunrise," the dryad mournfully explains.<p>

Aslan is gone.

I rush out of the tent before Finnick can stop me and I burst into Peter's and Edmund's tent in time to see another dryad disappearing. The two Pevensies match the worry on my face as we all know the same thing.

"Edmund, wait outside," Peter gently commands, tearing off his blanket.

Edmund nods, silently leaving the tent only to be replaced by Finnick, already dressed in his Order clothing and leather armor.

"Go get dressed," Finnick pushes me away from Peter.  
>"But—"<br>"You need to be prepared. Get dressed, I need to speak with the High King," Finnick looks to Peter.


	9. Let's Go Another Round

**Once again thank you ALL for reading! **

**Cue battle sequence...**

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><p>An irritated sigh escapes my lips and I do what Finnick asks, trembling as I strap on all my gear. The sky is beginning to lighten when I come out and I meet Edmund with Oreius outside Peter's tent, where Finnick and he are still inside.<p>

"Milady," Oreius nods his head.  
>"What do we do about Susan and Lucy?" Ed, nervously asks.<br>"I think it's best they stay where they are," I spread my hands out on the map that is laid out on the table, "They'll be out of harm's way."

"What about Aslan?" Oreius quietly asks as Finnick and Peter step out of the tent.  
>"It's true, Aslan is gone," Peter sighs, also placing his hands on the map.<p>

"He sacrificed himself for Edmund," Finnick explains, standing next to Oreius.  
>"Then you'll have to lead us. There's a whole army out there waiting to follow you," Edmund tells Peter, who looks to me and I nod.<br>"I can't," Peter reiterates, with a shake of his head.  
>"Aslan believed you could...and so do I," Edmund reassures his brother.<br>"We all do, Peter," I add, seeing similar looks on Oreius and Finnick.

Peter sighs again, looking at his two commanding officers.

"What are your orders, sir?" Oreius asks.  
>"Ready the army for battle," he says, nodding to the centaur.<p>

Oreius trots off without any delay, leaving us to strategize over the map.

"The witch's army has been spotted on the other side of the Fords, here," Finnick points to an open field next to a quarry of rocks.  
>"Crossing the river will thin out our army," I comment, "That will give her an advantage."<br>"One that she knows; she'll wait for us to make a move," Finnick sighs.

Peter silently stood by, listening to us with his eyes intently trained on the map.

"We could bottleneck her army too," he suddenly speaks, standing up straight.  
>"How do you mean?" Finnick curiously ask, examining the map for himself.<br>"These rocks," Peter points, "They provide a perfect base for the archers. We can draw out the witch in the open field here," he slides my hand off the map to point, "And if need be, we retreat back into the rocks and bottleneck her numbers down to however many can fit."

"Level the playing field," I nod, "That's a good plan."  
>"There is the possibility she could outflank us. These rocks are completely accessible to her army if we fall back," Finnick counters.<br>"Not if we outflank _her_," I speak, the boys' attention suddenly on me.

They expectantly look at me wondering what sort of plan I had in mind.

"Peter's right, Fin, we can draw the witch's army here where they'll be slowed a great deal and cause them to all congregate. Finnick, you could take a couple hundred of the Order, maneuver through these woods here, and surprise attack the soldiers at the mouth."

"It's a long-shot," Finnick heaves a great sigh.  
>"It's the only plan we've got," Peter reminds him.<p>

Finnick gives a sharp nod before disappearing into the mass of red tents to rally his men. The tenseness in Peter's features is readily apparent as he looks at his younger brother.

"I want you to stay with the archer's, Edmund," he says, almost expecting some kind of outburst from his brother.  
>"I can fight, Peter. You need me on the front line," Ed gently protests.<br>"It's too dangerous. I already lost you once, Ed, I'm not about to risk losing you again," Peter's voice holds an edge of royal determination and all Edmund can do it nod and retreat into his tent.

Peter turns to me and I hold up my hand, "Don't even think about ordering me to the rear. I'm staying with you, Pevensie."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," he smiles with a sigh, "Come on, we've got an army to ready."

My hand curls around his belt yanking him back, "And just when do _you_ plan on getting ready? I don't think you'll get very far in battle with no armor," I smirk.

A shade of pink tinges his cheeks as he sheepishly looks down at himself and I smirk. It's nice to have that effect on him instead of the other way around. Two female fauns take Peter back in his tent, one of them carrying an armful of metal plates. I return back to my tent, met with an eerie silence that seems to have overcome the entire camp as news of Aslan's death spread. My hands tremble violently as I secure my belt around my body, and loop my bow over my shoulders.

This is it.

And I am nowhere near ready.

All I know...is I'm going to do whatever it takes to protect Peter and Edmund.

A deep breath and an exhale cause me to shudder as I step back outside, this time met with an eyeful of sunshine as the burning star finally rose above the horizon. I catch sight of Finnick out of the corner of my eye and I draw up next to him. In quiet understanding I know the armies are all set.

All we need is our King.

After our strategizing, Finnick fell oddly silent and has remained that way. We stand together at the top of the hill near the tent that used to be Aslan's and gaze down at all the soldiers. Just standing there in complete silence, Finnick's presence has an unusual calming effect on me.

"I'm not going to be down there with you," he says, his eyes intently staring straight ahead, "I'll be with my men in the woods, awaiting the retreat."

I don't say anything; only watch him staring out into nothing with a somewhat troubled look.

"I'm sending Oreius with you and Peter," his hazel eyes meet mine, "If we break through her ranks...I'll come find you."

I'm enraptured in those beautiful brown eyes of his, hearing the concerned tone in his voice.

Finnick cares for me.

"Remember to...keep your eyes open, look sharp," he reminds me with a sigh, "Use your speed to your advantage."  
>"Anything else?" I murmur, tearing my eyes away from his.<br>"If you find yourself in battle with the witch...just run, Evi."

I swallow the lump in my throat, meeting his eyes again this time seeing a whole mass of emotion welling up. For a moment, he stares at me then his eyes glance down and a forced smile crosses his lips.

"Your belt is loose," he draws me in closer to him, his hands tucked in the belt around my waist.

I lift my arms up, placing them on his shoulders as he readjusts the straps and securely fastens the weapons to my back.

"Be careful, Evi," he whispers, gently holding my elbows.

I don't know why, but my heart pounds rapidly away in my chest and the sudden urge to kiss him overcomes me. I'm sure Finnick recognizes this but I don't let him act upon it; instead I pull away.

"We better move," I start to walk down the hill, "I'll go get Peter and Edmund."

My footing is wobbly, my heart is throbbing, and my head is reeling from what _almost_ occurred on that hill top. I thought after last night, things were resolved in regards to the semi-love triangle among Peter, Finnick, and me.

Apparently it's not.

This is so _not_ what I need right now.

More abruptly than I intended, I walk into Peter's tent halting to a stop when I spot him almost in full battle armor. The two fauns were strapping on the metal plates to his arm while Edmund sat in the corner, already donning the silver plates and red tabard trimmed in gold.

"How are you doing?" I ask Peter, pointing to the metal.  
>"It's not as heavy as it looks," he simply says.<p>

I nod, going to tie up the front of his chainmail coat and stepping back as the fauns pull a red tabard over his head, similar to Edmund's with a golden lion emblazoned on the chest.

"The army is ready. Finnick has already gone ahead into the forest," I tell him, tracing my fingers over his helmet.

Peter nods, looping his belt around his waist and strapping his shield to his left arm. Peter, Edmund, and I all leave the tent, meeting Oreius outside with a pure white unicorn and a black stallion.

Without a word, Peter and I mount our rides and Oreius leads us to the front of the line starting our march to cross the river. The journey isn't far and we settle ourselves just beyond the rocks, the archer's sitting atop the high towers, looking down at both armies. Ahead of us, we know the witch's army is there but we don't have a clear view. Oreius sends out a gryphon scout who returns in minutes, bringing word that we are greatly outnumbered.

A horn sounds somewhere over the horizon and intermingles with the other sounds of clanging weapons and shifting bodies. My chest suddenly tightens and I feel my throat constrict from pure fear. All I can do is breathe, very slow and deep breaths as I stare ahead into the field. The first creature visible is a massive black minotaur, roaring up into the sky as more and more creatures pop up along in the distance.

Cyclops, minotaurs, giants, tigers, werewolves, and the list goes on with the witch herself being drawn by two colossal polar bears in a chariot.

The witch's army is fierce and has the benefit of numbers. I can only hope our plan goes accordingly.

Peter brandishes his sword out in front of him, rallying hundreds of cries from the army behind him, the noise practically shaking the earth. On the opposite end of the field, a similar roar is heard and the witch's army charges. An unnerving anxiety washes over me and all I want to do is charge forward and meet the bastards head on to get it over with, but I look back up at Edmund and nod, signaling to him to let the gryphons fly.

With boulders and stones in tow, the birds soar overhead releasing their cargo over the opposing army, slowing and killing many as they draw near.

"Are you with me?" I hear Peter ask Oreius.  
>"To the death."<p>

His blue eyes connect with mine, "Stay with me."

In response, I nod, unable to form any words with the tension in my throat. His gaze leaves mine and stares bravely at the oncoming mass.

"FOR NARNIA! AND FOR ASLAN!"

Peter's charge rings out across the entire field and there's not a single thought in my mind as I race next to him toward our enemies. For a while there, things seem to go in slow motion and appear almost peaceful as my ears are numbed and I can hear nothing but my own breath.

The cheetahs and leopards race out ahead of us and are the first to collide with the army. I realize then that I've been shooting arrows the whole sprint as we all jump into the fray. Everything is a blur and all I do is keep shooting at the dark bodies until a brown minotaur rams his shoulder into my horse, sending me soaring into the air and tumbling to the ground. Without skipping a beat, I spring to my feet, shouldering my bow and wielding my knives, cutting at anything coming my way.

Having lost sight of Peter, I spare a fervent glance in all directions spotting him some distance ahead of me still mounted on his unicorn and not in any imminent peril. Heeding Finnick's advice, I slip in and out of large minotaurs and Cyclops, using speed and dexterity to my advantage. In a duel with a tiger, I'm not so quick and feel its claw graze the side of my face, the blood trailing a burning path down my face before I'm able to catch the beast off guard.

On the battlefield, all there is to think about is the next target. Thinking about anything else may prove to be fatal and all I do is move from the next soldier to the next without any feeling of regret.

The witch sent her troops after us in waves, so when we think we might be close to the end, a whole host of fresh blood steps in our path and we fight to the brink of exhaustion. I'm constantly battled back into the back ranks, forcing me to fight my way back up to Peter to keep him in my line of sight. I don't know how he's doing it, but he's able to stay on his horse and fight an open path in front of him.

A shrill screech breaks through the sounds of war and I look up to see the phoenix spreading its wings. Casting my gaze back down I also catch sight of one of the witch's bat-like creatures take to the air, far out of my range.

"PETER!" I shriek, trying to get his attention ahead of me.

He turns at the sound of my voice and I can only point to the bat. I know he understands when he breaks out into a run, nicking a spear from a dead minotaur. He races closer and closer into range finally hurling the spear into the sky, catching the bat right in the chest. Triumph bursts in my chest as I watch the phoenix spread its fire, separating the next wave from the current one.

The witch, though, has other plans and shatters the wall of fire allowing more troops to storm through. In the distance, I catch Peter's eye and start to sprint toward the rocks.

"Fall back!" I shout, hearing Peter give the same order.

A friendly horn explodes somewhere near me and I cast a glance to the nearby wood, seeing Finnick's troops lurking and waiting. I dash into the canyon, whistling to Edmund to open fire. Turning, I meet Oreius and wait for Peter to catch up. Only, Peter is stopped when an arrow strikes the white unicorn and Peter sails over the top.

"Peter!" I shout, "Peter, get up!"

He slowly climbs to his feet, watching the witch herself bear down on him. Suddenly, Oreius and gray rhino speed past me.

"Oreius! No!" I chase after him, hearing Peter shout as well.

Holding on to Peter's arm, I watch the rhino get taken down and Oreius carry on to the witch only to be turned to stone.

"NO!" I scream, starting forward but am aggressively pulled back by Peter.  
>"Evi, stop! There's nothing you can do!"<p>

"Peter!" I hear Edmund shout, and block Peter from an attack from behind, stabbing the dwarf. Peter locks eyes with the witch and watches her turn more friendly-Narnians into stone, all while I fend off _his_ attackers. A grphyon screech pierces the air and Peter suddenly tugs me down and under his arm as his shield protects us from a barrage of stone. My exhausted eyes meet his and he pulls me back up looking to Edmund.

"Edmund! There's too many! Get out of here!"

"Peter!" I frustratingly shout, as I nearly miss an attacking werewolf.

"Get the girls and get them home!" he orders his brother, who is led away by Beaver, and Peter finally turns to help me take down a dark-brown minotaur.

It isn't long, though, before Peter and I are surrounded by towering Cyclopes and minotaurs. Another horn rings out and I hear an uproar to my right and then a shout to my left. I swing my knife in the latter direction, meeting the silver blade of Finnick.

"As much as you might like to think I am, love, I'm _not_ the enemy!" he taunts above all the other noise.

Before I can reply, I twist my blade free of his, lunging past him to a tiger that was about to pounce.

I round on him with a smirk, "You need to be more aware in battle."

He chuckles, turning his back to mine as we cover each other, drifting further away from Peter as the witch lurks closer and closer. Another shout catches my ear and I look to my right to see Edmund challenging the witch.

My legs are moving before I can even think and I hear Finnick's angry yells but I ignore him, watching Edmund shatter the witch's wand which she thrusts before her but I wrestle the thing out of her hands with a giant leap. I roll a couple times, the wand in my hands and Edmund untouched. The witch's cold eyes scathingly bear down on me, only this time I meet her stare utterly unafraid and I unsheathe my weapons, standing between her and Edmund.

"I _told_ you that you would have to go through me before you got to him," I growl, pushing Edmund farther and farther back.  
>"Edmund, <em>leave<em>," I sternly order, not at all about to argue with him.

"Maxwell Beckett couldn't stop me," she taunts, "What makes you think _you_ can, little girl?"  
>"Because I'm his granddaughter and things don't happen the same way twice," I twirl my blades in a circle.<br>"So be it then," she quips, driving her sword at me.

The witch is tall, taller than a normal human being and her reach is long, but I'm still faster and aided with two blades instead of one. Her strength, though, greatly overpowers me and is so much different from anything I've fought and she knocks away one of my knives, leaving the right side of my body exposed.

I hear Finnick's shouts echo above all the chaos and even hear Peter call my name, but I ignore both of them, focused solely on the witch who quickly gains the upper hand. I try to feign right and thrust center but her cold, white hand wraps around mine, twisting my arm into an unnatural angle. A hiss and cry of pain escapes my lips and I'm completely at her mercy. My feet unexpectedly leave the ground and I feel myself soaring through the air, everything abruptly going black.


	10. Give Me Affection

**I have a soft spot for Finnick if you haven't noticed. Mostly because I imagine his personality like a cross between the Finnick in The Hunger Games and Alec from Dark Angel. Plus I'm picturing him as Max irons so that probably adds something to him as well. **

**So with that said, I've got a lot in store for Evi's relationship with Finnick since she's so confused about her feelings for him and her feelings for Peter.**

**Anyway, here's chapter 10!**

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><p>Voices, unbearable pain, more voices, and then darkness.<p>

That's all I remember after my skirmish with the witch, and I couldn't even tell you whose voices I heard. I _do_ remember waking up, though, my mind in an ugly fog and an unpleasant burning sensation on the whole right side of my body.

"Am I dead?" I let out a groan, placing my hand over my forehead, feeling the soft cotton of gauze and tape just above my right eye.  
>"That depends, am I present in your heaven?" Finnick's smooth chuckle reaches my ears.<br>"Ugh, God no," I cover my eyes with my hand, as my mind clears somewhat, "Ian Somerhalder...or Joseph Gordon-Levitt maybe."

Finally, I open my eyes, being bathed in a dim yellow glow in what appears to be the aid tent. The darkness outside tells me it's nighttime but during which day, I have no idea. And there's Finnick, with a happy grin on his face, sitting on my left. One look at him and all I can do is chuckle.

I can honestly say I'm happy to see him.

He looks tired, dressed in a clean white shirt with an open neckline and a simple pair of black pants, and his face was smooth being freshly shaven. It seems that Finnick's had time for a bath.

Wincing at the sharp pain, I try pushing myself into a sitting position, noting that my right arm is in a sling.

"Easy there," Finnick jumps from his sitting position, helping me rearrange my pillows.  
>"The right side of my body is on fire," I cringe, settling back into the pillows, "What happened?"<br>"The witch plowed you into the side of the cliff...I told you that you needed to be more aware," he chides, pointing a finger at me with a smirk.

I grab his finger, throwing his hand back at him with a shake of my head, unable to keep my own smirk down.

"She went after Peter then," he continues and my eyes widen.  
>"Well what happened? Is he all right? I want to see him," I rave, abruptly sitting up only to be sidelined by a wave of dizziness and fog; Finnick jumps up again, easing me back onto my pillows, this time sitting with me on the bed.<br>"You don't listen well, do you?" he chuckles in a quiet voice, pointing to all the sleeping forms with us in the tent, "Peter's fine. The witch stabbed him in the arm, he's sleeping down there."

I glance down the row of beds, seeing Peter's blonde hair peek out from under some blankets and I can relax, Finnick's warm body pressed against mine and his glorious scent similar to Kenneth Cole's Reaction, wafting in my nostrils.

"Well how did he get away?" I ask, my voice greatly lower in volume.  
>"Aslan came and with a whole battalion of soldiers who were turned to stone," he smiles.<br>"Aslan!" I gasp, bolting up again only to be pushed down once more by Finnick.  
>"Am I going to have to tie you down?" he smirks, hovering over me.<p>

My body shudders involuntarily, and I push Finnick off of me.

"Aslan's alive?" I ask, distracting him.  
>"Yes. He says the deep magic brought him back because he committed no treason," he explains.<p>

Relaxing again, I sigh, closing my eyes with Finnick watching over me.

"How long have I been knocked out?" I suddenly ask him.  
>"About a day. You woke up when we popped your shoulder back in but then you crashed again. Lucy tried using her cordial and it healed the broken bones but there's still a lot of bruising...and then your obvious concussion," he ran his thumb over the bandage on my head.<p>

"Father Christmas said that one drop could cure any injury," I furrow an eyebrow.  
>"Not for us."<br>"Us?"  
>"Members of the Order," he clarifies.<br>"But I'm not a member yet," that fuzzy feeling, starting to cloud my vision again.  
>"It's in your blood, though, and that's what matters," he answers, sliding off the bed leaving the left side of my body feeling very cold.<p>

He draws the blankets up, tucking me snuggly into bed.

"Where are you going?" I ask, the tone of my voice revealing that I don't want him to leave.

He smiles at me before leaving, "To tell Aslan that you're awake. Get some sleep, I'll be back in the morning."

"Haven't I slept enough?" I mutter and look down the row at Peter's sleeping form after he's gone.

Something gnaws at me, wondering why it was Finnick at my bedside and not Peter; I thought for sure he would've been there. He _is_ injured so he does need his rest just as much as I do so I suppose I can't blame him. I would've gotten out of bed to go see him, if only I _could_ get out of bed without feeling dizzy.

So until morning, all I do is lie in bed not even trying to fall asleep but dawn is only a few hours away and one by one the denizens of the infirmary tent begin to wake, Peter being one of the last.

A wide smile crosses his face as he sees that I'm awake and he comes running over. I laugh as he plows into my bed, wrapping his arms around me. I'm soon overwhelmed by the other Pevensies, each eagerly enveloping me in their cheerful embraces. A low chuckle interrupts our small moment and we all turn to see Aslan walking over to my bed with Finnick at his side.

"Your grandfather would've been proud," the great lion speaks and I feel a tinge of pink race across my cheeks, "You have once again proved yourself to all of Narnia, dear one. You have my thanks."

Lucy lets out a loud laugh, barreling me back into my pillows.

"We will make way to Cair Paravel as soon as the Kings and Queens have had something to eat," Aslan tells Finnick who dutifully nods, "Come, Your Highnesses. Lady Evelyn is sure to need some rest before the journey ahead."

Edmund and Lucy hop of the bed, running after the Lion while Peter places a chaste kiss against my cheek before following Susan out.

"I don't need rest, I need a bath," I roll my eyes with a heavy sigh.

Finnick lets out a laugh that makes me smile.

"As soon as you can sit up without getting dizzy you can have a bath."  
>"Fine," I utter, immediately sitting up.<p>

He waits a moment, folding his arms across his chest with a smirk playing his lips but I never fall back in vertigo. I throw him a satisfied smirk, tossing away my covers.

"Keep smirking, Evi, and let's see how well you can walk on your own," he says, helping me out of bed, knowing that my balance would be off.  
>"You're not coming with me," I protest as he helps me out of the tent into the sickening brightness of day.<br>"How else do you expect to get to the washing tent?" he poses back with a wicked smirk, too big for even him.

"Good. Then you can take me there and _leave_," I stress, shaking his arm off me as two female Naiads in corporeal form help me into the tent where a large basin, the size of a pool is already steaming with warm water.

"You'll have to remove your armor, Milady," the nymph instructs me, already pulling away my leather greaves around my shins.

I blow another heavy sigh, not exactly comfortable stripping in front of these creatures but I suppose this is how things were in Narnia. The nymphs help me undo the rest of my armor and I shed my dark-blue tunic, hesitating before I remove my pants and undershirt leaving me in the bra and panties I was wearing from when I entered Narnia.

"Hang on! I'm supposed to tell you –" Finnick suddenly barges into the tent unannounced.  
>"FINNICK!" I shriek, one of the nymphs standing in front of me while the other shoes away a shocked and extremely amused Finnick.<br>"I'm sorry! I didn't know!" he laughs as he's pushed outside.  
>"MY ASS YOU DIDN'T!" I violently throw one of my vambraces outside the tent, hearing it hit its mark with a grunt from Finnick.<p>

The nymph that escorted Finnick out, ties the tent flap shut while the other brings me to the side of the basin where I catch sight of myself in the mirror. Finnick wasn't kidding when he said there was some bruising...more like the whole right side of my torso is covered in ugly black bruises, the worst of it on my ribs and back while a large bandage covers the right side of my head near my temple, while my face is sickly pale and smeared with dirt and blood much like of the rest of my body. Underneath all that, however, I find some satisfaction in seeing that my body is in the best shape of my life with a toned core and chiseled arms and legs; though, it does little to ease the annoyance of Finnick walking in on me.

Grumbling, I pull off my undergarments and discard the sling around my shoulder before stepping into the gloriously warm water. I've never had another bath in my life that's felt so great as this as I wipe my skin clean of all the dirt, grime, and blood and comb out all the grease from my hair. It doesn't even matter anymore that the nymphs are there. Once I'm clean, the nymphs wrap a large towel around me and I ring my hair out into the basin.

"Milady?" I hear a feminine voice outside the tent.

I nod to the nymphs to let her into the tent and a tall, slender elf comes in bearing a clean set of clothes consisting of a white undershirt and black pants similar to Finnick's.

"We tried to craft something similar to what you wear," she nervously hands me a new pair of underwear and a bra.

I let out a laugh, taking them from her, "Thank you."

She gives me a small curtsy and smile before quickly leaving the tent to let me dress in semi-privacy. I briefly run the towel through my brown locks before putting my arm in the sling and leaving the tent only to be met with a still-grinning Finnick.

A shoot him a dark scowl, punching him in the chest with my good arm.

"Ow!" he laughs, as I hold onto him for support anyway, "I don't know what you're so worked up about. It's not like you're in bad shape or anything...I mean, seriously."

I swing my arm around again to punch him but this time he's expecting it and catches my fist in his hand, "Try that again," he smirks.

"You did it on purpose!" I yell.  
>"I did no such thing," he defends himself, though, with a twinkle in his eyes, "Though, I can't say I wasn't pleasantly surprised."<p>

I grumble trying hard to ignore the satisfied look on his face, "You're a dirty, rotten, pig. And exactly _what_ was so important that you had to burst into the tent?"

"Ah, yes, well I was supposed to tell you that King Peter wanted to meet with you before we set off for Cair Paravel," he says.  
>"Good, then help me over there," I order him, trying to push him in that direction but he wouldn't budge.<br>"Not so fast. You took a little too long in your bath and we're set to leave in just a few minutes," he cheekily says, waiting for my reaction.  
>"Ass!" I shout, going to punch him again.<p>

Only this time he catches my hand, swinging his arms underneath me and lifting me into the air, a scream escaping my lips.

"You have _got_ to learn to _listen_," he jokes, hand squeezing my side; this time a squeal of laughter coming from my mouth.

My shrieks of delight echo around the people near us, and I wiggle and kick as much as possible, begging for Finnick to put me down in between my laughs.

"Are you going to listen?" he stops for a moment.  
>"Yes, yes!" I desperately laugh, feeling him slide me off his shoulder and set me on the ground.<p>

I fall into his chest still slightly laughing as I try to regain my breath.

"_Never_ do that again," I shake my head.  
>"Or what?" he smirks.<br>"God, you're annoying," I shake my head with a smile.

The sound of a horn somewhere at the edge of camp sounds and several creatures begin to march forward.

"Looks as if we're heading out," Finnick grabs a pack on the ground, attaching it to the saddle of his black horse.  
>"What about my stuff?" I frown, looking back at the tent I shared with him.<br>"Already packed. Now come on," he easily lifts me up by the waist and places me on his horse, swinging himself up behind me, grabbing the reigns.

His closeness is hard to ignore and I'm unable to relax as he charges forward to the front of the procession where we meet up with Aslan and the Pevensies, though, Finnick rides just behind them so I can't get into proper conversation with Peter. Occasionally he glances back at me and smiles, which I return, but I just wish I could ride with _him_.

"Why can't I ride my own horse?" I whine, trying to adjust myself so I'm not constantly pressed up against Finnick.  
>"You can't even walk on your own, what makes you think you can steer a bouncing horse?" he scoffs.<p>

An annoyed sigh passes my lips as I realize that he's right; his body stabilizes the jostling the lumbering horse causes. Peter gazes back at me again, seeing the cross look on my face and sends me a sympathetic look.

Finnick's horse suddenly swings to the right, trotting to the back of the line.

"What? Where are we going?" I ask.  
>"To check on the back of line which is a lot more vulnerable," he simply says and I begin to think we're going to the back just to avoid Peter's watchful eye.<p> 


	11. Home

**Sorry for the wait, dear readers! I got a little hung up on an original story idea and a midterm I took today. To be honest, a little break should do some good, I've spoiled you guys rotten with quick updates haha.**

**Chapter 11!**

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><p>As it turns out, Finnick isn't such bad company. In fact, I found myself completely forgetting about Peter and enjoying the trip with Finnick. Of course it's not just us and we walk along with Oreius. The stories the two of them tell me! It's a riot really, the way they each try to one-up the other's story: ranging from unusual sights to conquests in battles. And the way Finnick excitedly leans forward to point out familiar sights from his childhood, his voice enthusiastically chatting away in my ear, it's adorable.<p>

"And my uncle sprang from the ground, roaring like a minotaur! Dell didn't speak to him for _weeks_!" Oreius' unstoppable laugher earns amused smiles from me and Finnick as we comfortably sit pressed against each other.

Up ahead, though, we all see the procession stop, some people falling out of ranks.

"What's happening?" I sit up straight, trying to peer into the setting sun to find the source of trouble.  
>"Sun's going down. We must be stopping for the night," Oreius suggests.<br>"Aslan probably thinks it's safer if we travel during the day," Finnick jumps down from the horse, bringing me down.  
>"From what?" I frown, wrapping my fingers around his arm to steady myself still feeling lightheaded.<br>"The witch's supporters," Oreius answers, walking with us to the front.  
>"Yeah, they're bound to be running about these woods," Finnick warily glances around.<p>

Catching sight of Peter, I leave the safety of Finnick's arm and rush over to him before Finnick can haul me back.

"Peter," I smile, seeing his face light up as he spots me.  
>"Evi," he beams, catching my arms, "Where have you been all day? I've hardly had a chance to spend time with you."<br>"Finnick and I had to check the back line, he says the witch's remaining supporters might wage an attack," I explain as he leads me to his siblings where they already had a fire burning.  
>"As long as we have Aslan, they won't try anything," he shakes his head, looking at the great Lion speaking with his subjects.<p>

Knowing what he said is true, I nod, laughing as Lucy pulls me over to the fire where a delicious looking spread has been laid out for us. The tales of Finnick and Oreius made me forget just how hungry I am, and I'm grateful for the hot meal before me.

The sun finally dips below the horizon and bathes the land in darkness except for the white moon and the glowing fires lining the temporary camp. The five of us get caught up in wild laughter and more stories from home, and I find myself feeling a little guilty at the way I easily ditched Finnick earlier. Still...I love the Pevensie's company and I love the way Peter catches my eye every so often with a slight smile on his lips.

"It's kind of hard to explain!" I laugh when Peter asked what Internet is.  
>"Well what else is there in the future?"<br>"Yeah, what's your favorite thing?" Edmund and Susan ask.  
>"My iPod," I answer, laughing at their confused looks, "Basically you can take any songs you want and transfer them into this tiny little box that plays them back. Kind of like a radio."<p>

They still look confused but I shrug it off with a smile, seeing Edmund shiver next to me. I open up the blanket around my shoulders and draw him in close to me. With a grateful smile, he looks up at me and settles into the blanket. It's getting somewhat late and we all idly sit by, starting to feel sleep's dastardly effects, with nothing but the crackle of the fire to be heard.

"What about the war?" Peter slowly asks, causing the others to expectantly pay attention and shake of the weariness for just a few more minutes.

I let out a sigh, meeting his hopeful gaze.

"Which one?" I respond, thinking to all the conflicts the world has seen since WWII.

Our world is a cruel place and I knew that before I came to Narnia, but after being here for a while I've come to realize just how cruel it really is. Peter glances between me and his siblings and they all suddenly become very dejected and fall silent once more this time more permanently as Lucy quickly falls asleep in Susan's lap.

"I'm going to take her to bed," Susan quietly says, gently lifting Lucy up and over to their sleep sacs.

The rest of us nod, bidding them a soft goodnight. Edmund is still wrapped in my blanket but sleep weighs heavily on his eyes and his head falls on my arm. Looking over at Peter, I see him smile at his brother and he mouths, "I think he fancies you."

"I do not," Edmund sleepily protests.

Peter and I quietly chuckle, noticing that things were pretty much settled down across camp. I hear him let out a sigh and I watch as he stands and starts out for a walk. I stay with Edmund, knowing that he too will probably go to bed soon and I could join Peter then.

"I realized I never thanked you," Edmund sighs.  
>"For what?" I chuckle.<br>"For saving me...twice now."  
>"You don't need to thank me for that," I smile down at him.<br>"Of course I do! You did it all without any expectation of something in return. The very _least_ I can do is thank you."

I shake my head at the dark haired boy, kissing the top of his head.

"Edmund, I know if you were given the opportunity, you would do the very same for me," I rub his arm.  
>"And I will. From this day on, I promise to look out for you in every way possible," he determines with enthusiasm that only makes me giggle.<br>"I thought that was _my_ duty," I ruffle his hair, "Besides, I think you're just a bit overtired. Why don't you go get some sleep?"

He nods with a wide yawn, shedding the blanket and joining his sisters. I smile as he leaves, wrapping the blanket around my shoulders to go find Peter. It's not too difficult; he is only just outside camp on the bank of the river Beruna that we've been counting on as our guide to Cair Paravel. White light from the full moon casts a royal glow on him and I can only stand still and observe him for a moment. To me, it's clear the battle has changed him, he truly looks like a king now.

"What are you doing out here?" I ask, walking over to him.  
>"I just wanted some time alone," he answers still looking out at the rushing water.<br>"Do you want me to go?"  
>"Not at all," he finally smiles at me, putting his arm around my waist.<br>"What do you think happens now?" I ask, letting my head fall onto his shoulder.  
>"You don't mean to say you want to go home, do you?" he frowns.<p>

Bending down, I pick up a flat stone, curling my finger around its soft edges to skip it in the clear water. At this point, I really don't know what I want, and I'm silent as Peter quietly watches me skip a couple stones.

"Home feels kind of like a dream now, doesn't it?" I eventually say, turning a small, gray stone between my fingers.  
>"Yeah," he nods, totally understanding, "Like <em>this<em> is home and England is some distant memory."

The stone in my hand skips three times before sinking to the bottom of the river.

"I feel like if I go home, I'm not going to belong. Like I won't remember anyone and they won't remember me," I shrug, walking back up the bank next to Peter.  
>"Then don't go," he tucks my hair behind me ear, "I'm not."<br>"When did I say that I was leaving?" I smile, linking my arm with his as we walk back to camp.

As we reach the fire, or what is now just a smoldering pile of glowing embers, I take my arm out of Peter's whispering him goodnight.

"You're not staying?" he whispers back, and I don't need any light to see his frown.  
>"I think I should go back by Finnick," I shrug my shoulders.<br>"Why not stay with me?"  
>"Finnick has a horse and I think if I piss him off he'll make me walk."<p>

I hear Peter's chuckle in the dark, and I know he's comfortable letting me go back. Staying with Peter would've been nice but I've had such a nice day with Finnick and I don't want to have it end badly the next morning when I told him I spent the night with Peter.

"Goodnight, Evi," he whispers and I nod, turning away.

It's easier for me to walk by myself in the dark without the bright sun causing my head to throb and I'm able to maneuver my way around all the sleeping bodies back to Finnick and Oreius who already appear to be sleeping.

Quietly, I tip-toe over to Finnick's horse and pull out a sleep sack and lay it next to him.

"You're not as quiet as you might think," I hear him whisper and see that he still has his eyes closed.  
>"Yeah, well, a concussion kind of puts all your senses in a fog. I can't tell how loud I am," I frown at him while sliding into my sleep sac.<p>

His brown eyes open and look at me, a smile on his face.

"What?" I hiss, annoyed by his constant stare.  
>"You just surprise me, is all. I didn't expect to see you until morning," he props himself up.<br>"Oh," I simply say, earning a chuckle from him as I draw the thin blanket over my shoulders.

The ground was hard and full of bumps, adding to the discomfort on the right side of my body and I find myself rolling all about just trying to find some kind of comfortable position; it's also satisfying to know that I'm keeping Finnick awake as well.

"Will you lie still already?" he hisses.  
>"No! The ground is hard, my side hurts, and these blankets aren't exactly warm," I complain, furiously turning over to face him.<p>

With a wide roll of his eyes, his arm shoots out and wraps around my body, bringing me up against him as close as I could be. He rolls on his back, tucking his other arm around me and lets my head fall on his chest. I have kind of grown used to Finnick's affectionate exchanges throughout the day but it's difficult to ignore the feeling of his warm, strong body against mine. I hadn't noticed before when he was in all his gear, but now that he's just in an undershirt, I can feel how toned and well-built he really is, his muscles rippling beneath the thin fabric. Spreading like wild-fire, the warmth from his body sends chills shooting down my spine all the way to my toes.

"Better?" he asks with a sigh.  
>"That depends. Are you going to try and kiss me again?" I fire back, receiving a quiet laugh from him.<br>"It crossed my mind," he replies with a smirk.

Instead of frowning at him, I giggle, relaxing into his chest, "Goodnight, Fin."

It's pretty obvious to me now, I _am_ attracted to Finnick but in an entirely different way than Peter. Finnick is my protector, my knight in shining armor, so to speak. When I'm around Peter I feel like I'm _his_ protector, he comes to me for advice and safety which isn't a bad thing necessarily but a king should be able to protect and form his own opinions.

Peter and I get along incredibly well and he is so sweet to me, not to mention he, too, is incredibly attractive. There's just something too sweet about him, though, like he's holding back to a point where I feel like we can't quite breakthrough the "good friends" barrier. Sure, we've kissed but that was hardly anything but a couple-second peck on the lips. Whereas if I let myself, Finnick and I would crash through that barrier like a battering ram.

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><p>A few hours of sleep is all I'm allowed before we're up and once again marching our way to Cair Paravel. According to Finnick and Oreius, we haven't much farther to go and<p>

"You very well could walk on your own, you know," Finnick taunts as he decided a couple hours ago to walk alongside the horse, while I contentedly sit in the saddle. According to Oreius we would be arriving at Cair Paravel very soon.

"And _you_ could climb up here with me. You chose not to," I retort.  
>"Is that an invitation, love?" he smugly smirks at me.<p>

I simply look ahead with a slight smile on my face as Finnick shrugs his shoulders.

"You're going to regret not being on this horse when I go sprinting off when we reach Cair Paravel," I tell him with a playful smirk.  
>"You'll do no such thing," he points a finger at me.<br>"And just how do you plan on stopping me?" I laugh.

His silence makes me laugh again and he squeezes my leg getting a shriek out of me.

"I'll come up with something," he amusedly looks up at me.  
>"You better think quickly because I think I see it up ahead," I excitedly tell him, feeling him swing up behind me moments later.<br>"You're kind of a downer," I refuse to give him the reigns.

"Am not," he pouts behind me.

Our little squabble is interrupted by a horn up ahead and I know for sure we've reached the castle.

I tighten my hold around the reins with my good hand, "Hang on," I glance over my shoulder before breaking out into a run, Finnick's hands clamping down on my waist.

We zoom past all the blurred forms up to the front once more, slowing as we reach an elegant stone gateway leading up to the largest castle I've ever seen, constructed in gorgeous white stone with blue, domed, roofs. Its immense size is more like a small village than an actual castle as is intricately built in and around the bluff it's founded on. The bluffs themselves would've been a sight in its own, towering above a white, sandy beach below.

On one side of the castle, the Great River cascades down the rocks in a waterfall and dumps into the great ocean. The pool of the waterfall his surrounded by the castle walls and a number of trees but remains completely intact and untouched otherwise. A number of small huts also line the forest outside the castle and down on the beach, making Cair Paravel seem that much grander. Nobody, including Finnick, can contain their excitement and we all laugh and cheer, the procession slowly filing across the bridge and into the massive Entrance Hall.


	12. An Impossible World

**This chapter brings us about halfway in this part of the story. And I'm glad you've all enjoyed it thus far!**

**I'm not usually one to fish for reviews but I'd really be interested to know what you guys like and don't like about the story. So if you could at the end of this chapter, click the little review button and write a little blurb for me that would be greatly appreciated!**

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><p>Much of the day is spent getting settled into our new, luxurious quarters in the East Wing of the castle and getting accustomed to life in Cair Paravel. We're all taken on tours, scouring every wing of the castle and informed what daily life would be like. Various hands and aids dressed us in new clothes, mine mostly consisting of the usual blue tunic but in a variety of shades. Representatives from the neighboring countries of Archenland and Calormen even greeted us, informing that their Majesties were on their way. Aslan was around too, explaining that the Pevensies are to be crowned tomorrow, adding to all the excitement in the castle. It was a wild day for all of us, meeting, greeting, exploring, and learning all about life in free Narnia and much of the time I was separated from the Pevensies.<p>

It isn't until before dinner when we finally get some time to ourselves and I retreat into my room, happily sorting through my wardrobe and rearranging my furniture in the massive room. Really, it is more like an apartment with an open main area, my own bathroom and balcony, and a lofted sleeping area where my king-sized bed is perched. I absolutely love it and could get very used to life at Cair Paravel.

A knock at the door disrupts my reorganizing, "It's open!" I call, folding some of my clothes to put in my dresser.

"Blimey, look at this room," I hear a whistle from the door, looking up to see Peter casually strolling in.  
>"Hi," I greet him with a bit of enthusiasm and a wide grin.<br>"Hello there," he chuckles at my fervor, joining me at my side, "You seem to be in a cheery mood."  
>"There's no reason I shouldn't be," I gesture to the grandeur around me.<br>"You've got me there. Anyway, we're heading down to the beach. Care to join me?" he smiles.  
>"Absolutely!" I carelessly throw the rest of my clothes in their drawers.<br>"Let's get a move on then," he laughs, grabbing my hand and leading me out into the warm evening air.

Peter and I meet the other three Pevensies down at the sandy beach, and it's a mad dash to the warm waters and we all ungracefully barrel into the foamy waves shrieking with delight as we splash each other in salt water. Peter goes on a rampage, playfully throwing every one of us into the water. Our antics bring us out into deeper waters where we're met by squealing dolphins and beautiful mer-people. Ed grabs the dorsal fin of a dolphin and it takes him speeding through the water while the rest of us laugh and dance with the merfolk in the waves. It's the perfect ending to the day and Susan doesn't even mind Peter and I being so close together in the water, not bothering to cover up our affections for one another.

The sun finally dips below the horizon cascading the land in darkness and we're forced back onto the beach, thoroughly beat from the raid on the water.

"Let's come back tomorrow!" Lucy tugs on Peter's sopping wet sleeve.  
>"Except, next time, let's eat before we swim. I'm famished!" Ed expresses all of us hearing his stomach give a mighty rumble.<br>"Don't you know you're supposed to wait an hour after you eat before you can swim?" I laugh, poking at Ed's sides as we start up the path to the north entrance.

"You five seem to have thoroughly enjoyed the Great Eastern Ocean," Finnick smiles at our drenched attire as we meet him midway in the path, "I was just coming to find you."  
>"You should've come with us," I smile, ringing out my hair.<br>"I had duties to attend to upon my return to the castle," he shrugs his shoulders.

"Come with us to dinner," Susan says, smiling brightly at Finnick which makes me roll my eyes.  
>"Sorry, my Queen, Lady Evelyn and I have some business to attend to," he graciously bows.<br>"An earlier notice would've been nice, Fin," I fold my arms across my chest.  
>"I only just find out myself," he emphasizes.<p>

"We'll see you tomorrow, Evi," Peter reassuringly squeezes my hand with a sympathetic look.

I breathe a heavy sigh, waving to my friends as they climb the path back up to the castle. Once they're out of sight I annoyingly slap Finnick's shoulder.

"What was that for!" he sends me a dark look.  
>"Haven't we done <em>enough<em> work today? You couldn't let me have a few _hours_ with my friends?" I accuse.  
>"I <em>told<em> you I only just found out!" he mischievously pushes me back, "Besides, aren't I your friend too?"  
>"An annoying acquaintance is more like it," I tease back.<p>

With an orbital roll of his eyes, Finnick leads me up a few more steps and off to a side passage in the brush. The passage is just a dirt hollow, marked by two sconces on either side, really not all that hidden. How I missed it on the way down I have no idea.

"Exactly what _is_ this business?" I warily ask, ducking under some cobwebs and pushing Finnick ahead of me to deter anymore.  
>"The rest of the Order and myself have decided to forgo the rest of your trials for the initiation. The bravery you showed on the battlefield was enough earn your place," he explains as the dirt walls turn into smooth stone, "So you'll hear the rest of the code and go through initiation."<p>

"Right," I unsurely nod, suddenly feeling nervous.

The tunnel opens up to an eerily familiar room and I gasp recognizing it as the chamber from my dreams. Only now it is lit by five torches and standing in the alcoves are members of the Order, silent and ridden in shadow like they were in the woods. Finnick leads me by the hand to the raised dais in the center before retreating into his own alcove off to my right. A few tense moments pass by in absolute silence and I'm terrified to the core.

"Finnick," my voice echoes loudly against the stone walls and the room is unexpectedly overcome with a fierce wind, the form of a man manifesting in front of me.

I can only take the man to be Arma.

The ghostly form of Arma is a grizzly-looking old man with a head of snow-white hair and a long beard streaked with grey specks. In the dim light of the chamber, his eyes look almost black and his face is in a constant sneer.

"Evelyn Cassidy Wood."

That voice.

"Your courage and self-sacrifice have not gone unnoticed."

I didn't recognize it earlier in the woods...that leering, cryptic tone.

"But you still have much to learn."

It's the same voice from my dreams...that was Arma. God, how I regretted not having my bow and arrows with me; not that it would've done much good because he's just a phantom. Arma takes a couple steps forward, his maroon robes billowing at his feet and that sneer ever wider darkening his features.

"You would do well to listen, Lady Wood. These last few tenets serve as a strict code of conduct that _all_ knights of my Order must adhere to, down to the very last word. No knight is exempt," he sternly says, now standing just before me, "Do you _really _think you are up for this?"

I am _not_ about to back down from this s.o.b. and I stare defiantly into the ghostly figure's beady black eyes, catching Finnick's smirk out of the corner of my eye. Arma nods his spectral head, a dark sneer firmly etched into the features of his face.

"So be it. So it is written: it is forbidden for knights of the Order to place individual desires before community needs."

Rule after rule, Arma recites the remaining laws of the code, my eyes never leaving his mocking stare.

"—It is forbidden for knights of the Order to seek personal or political gain; and loyalty forever will solely lie with the Order—"

What _is_ it about this Arma that makes him so pretentious? Not once does his jeer falter, and in fact, seems to intensify with each rule he delivers and it takes every ounce of self-restraint in my body not to charge after him.

"—it is forbidden for the knights of the Order to love, consort, copulate, or commit any of the like with the individuals placed their charge—"

What.

"And finally: it is forbidden for the knights of the Order to cling to the past and act in revenge—"

My head snaps so fast in Finnick's direction I almost give myself whiplash. The magical being Arma keeps speaking but I hear nothing as Finnick adamantly avoids my gaze.

"Time has come for the final rite!" Arma announces to the others with us in the chamber, "If you please."

Two, towering elves step out of their alcoves and straight toward me.

"No, wait," I protest, the creatures firmly grasping my wrists and I resist their arrest, "Stop!"

"And with the blood of the initiate, the deep magic will bond forever in the Lady," Arma says, nodding to the elves who violently bring me to my knees on the dais all despite my raging protests and angry pleas for Finnick, who just stands in his alcove, head bowed, blatantly ignoring my voice.

The elf on my right takes a dagger to my hand, pressing the razor-sharp blade into my palm, the blood dripping onto an engraving of a lion on the dais. Each drop of blood fills the crevices until the lion is coated in my own mercurial blood and a strong force overcomes me, bringing my head and hands down into a low bow before Arma.

"Welcome to The Order of the Lion, General Evelyn Cassidy Wood."

It was anything but a welcome.

The form of Arma dissipates into a fog and I'm able to stand up straight, throwing off the two elves. Clutching my hand to my chest, I tear up the nearest spiral staircase, ignoring Finnick's calls as he chases after me.

He just stood there.

Why did he just _stand_ there?

"Evelyn!"

Why didn't he _help_ me?

"Evelyn, wait!"

He _heard_ me yelling for them to stop.

Hot tears burn the corners of my eyes as I come upon the conclusion.

He knew.

He knew all of it, but he didn't care. He knew that if I knew all of the code I wouldn't join the Order.

He lied to me this whole time.

I don't know what to do, I don't know what to think. I _literally_ just signed my life away, bound completely by my blood. Finnick is hot on my heels but it doesn't matter because I'm already at my room and I slam the door shut in his face and all I can do is cry and cry, the cut on my hand running blood all over my shirt.

"Come on, Evi, open the door! Please, let me explain!"

I do nothing but cry, not even a foot into the room, Finnick's banging and pleas to open the door falling on deaf ears. I'm not sure how long Finnick stays outside my room but eventually I cry myself into a catharsis, hollowly wrapping my hand into a crude bandage. My mind is blank, and I'm so beyond angry, beyond sadness, that I just can't think of what this all means. All night, until morning, I absently stare up at my ceiling, not even bothering to climb into bed.

_Loyalty forever will solely lie with the Order_

In the matter of a couple hours, I've lost all freedom. I'm not a general, I'm a _slave_. Everything I do from here on out is for the Order, for Narnia and I have no say in the matter. I don't think I ever did.

_It is forbidden for the knights of the Order to love_

Oh, God, Peter.

Love is a strong word and I don't necessarily think I _love_ him, but my feelings for him are more than platonic. He's been with me every step of the way since coming to Narnia, how can I just forget everything that's happened between us?He's being crowned today, being "placed in my charge" and if we keep going like we are, I'll be kicked out of Narnia.

I clench my fists tightly closed, a new wave of anger and tears forming in my eyes. God, what the hell do I do now? Nothing I can do will get me out of this mess. I can't leave Narnia unless I break the code and I can't intentionally break the code because Arma will know. Even if I _am_ able to break the code and leave, what then? Go back _home_? Go back to being ignored by my family, going on without Granddad, living in a world full of indecency, corruption, and global unrest...

A knock on the door at my back startles me out of my stiff position on the floor. Standing up with a glance outside the window, I see streaks of yellow sunlight shining in through the glassy panes.

"Milady, your presence is requested in order to prepare for the coronation," a calm female voice speaks through my door, lightly knocking again.  
>"J-just...just a minute," I call back, rubbing my puffy, red eyes clear of any lingering tears and changing into the blue tunic that will become my everyday dress.<p>

I guess...the only thing to do...is my job.

The only thing left is what I'm going to tell Peter.

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><p><strong>Plot twist! <strong>

**I have a confession; this was probably the first thing I had planned out when I began writing this story. It sets up a great deal that happens later on.**

**Now help me out a bit by clicking that review button down there :)**


	13. Drowning in this Petty World

**My summer months are slowly dwindling down and I start classes for the fall semester soon. As a result, updates will be more sporadic. My goal is to finish part one of the Test of Time series before school but that might not happen since I'm just finishing up the summer term and scrambling for a place to live (and **_**that's**_** a whole other story entirely)**

**So I just want to apologize in advance and also thank you for reading. Honestly, it means so much to me!**

**Also this chapter contains more profanity than other chapters so just a fair warning. **

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><p>Finnick is the only other person in the council chamber when I arrive and I make it a point to not interact with him.<p>

"So you're ignoring me now?" he says, lazily tipping his chair back.

I roll my eyes, not about to state the obvious as I silently sit at the head of the lengthy table next to him.

"Real mature, Evi," he nags.  
>"You're out of line, <em>Lieutenant<em>," I darkly growl, reminding him that I'm now his commanding officer as I bring his chair firmly down to four legs.

One by one, people filter in for the meeting; handmaidens, kitchen staff and the like with the chamberlain of the castle, Dame Adelaide, arriving last. Maybe it is the ridiculously ornate, red gown she's wearing, or maybe it's the way she's strutting about the room like she owns the place but I find myself thoroughly entertained with this woman. She is by no means a young woman, her face riddled with many wrinkles and her hair greyed from age, but by the way she's excitedly pacing around the room you would think she's fit for an Iron Man. I try to conceal my blatant stare but from the chuckle I hear from Finnick next to me, it appears I'm unsuccessful.

"Good _morning_ all!" she brightly claps her hands together, "We've got a _busy, busy_ day ahead of us. Felipe," she turns to an elderly faun at the other end of the table, "Is the menu nearly prepared for tonight's feast?"

"Yes, Dame, there were a few hiccups getting the mead and ale but all will be resolved by this afternoon," Felipe responds.  
>"Excellent!" she eventually sits to my right, strangely eyeing me up as she finally notices my presence, "Wha— well who are you?"<br>"General Wood," I slowly answer, returning her scornful gaze.  
>"Oh," she replies as if she's just tasted something bitter on her tongue, "I see."<p>

So that's how it's going to be with her. She really thinks she owns this place.

"You are aware that I am the _chamberlain_ of this household and as such you must abide by the rules that I have set?"  
>"Oh of course, she does, Dame Adelaide," Finnick quickly interjects, seeing the perturbed look on my face, "This is Lady Wood's first day at Cair Paravel and she's only just getting acclimated. She <em>will<em> learn the manners of the house."

"See to it that she does, Finnick!" she promptly turns to the rest of the staff.

Oh _hell_ no.

I am _not_ going to put up with this after what just happened with the Order. Serving under this bitch is not in my job description. And I may be new to this place but even _I _know she is completely out of line. Not to mention, my parents, the careless a-holes that they are, don't even treat me like this.

"Excuse _me_, ma'am," I rise to my feet, interrupting her laborious lecture about the preparations of the throne room, "But are _you_ aware that I am second in command of Cair Paravel, the King's Hand and as such, you will treat me with respect."

By standards of size, I'm hardly imposing standing at just above a meter and a half tall, but the tone of my voice is enough to get the message through, a flurry of whispers coursing through the staff.

"Evi, sit _down_," Finnick hisses at me, wrenching me back into my seat.

He nods to Adelaide to let her continue with her checklist of the coronation and the banquet, much to my great irritation. Have I got this backwards or am I _not_ a ranking officer? Because so far, all I've seen is Finnick and some old woman imposing their weight over me. The woman's lecture hardly even pertains to me and Finnick; all she's talked about his music, food, and decorations. How does security fit into all of this?

Still, the meeting is a fantastic excuse for me to avoid Peter, something that's been plaguing my thoughts all morning. My stomach clenches just thinking about him and how much this is going to hurt him. It's so unfair.

_Peter_.

Knowing that we'll never be more than friends eats away at my heart and I become more resentful, a painful twinge in my hand serving as a constant reminder.

"Finnick, a few soldiers presence is all that will be required. I hardly think the witch's supporters will plot an attack and I don't want the soldiers to deter from the celebratory ambiance," Adelaide cheerily asks him with a wary glance in my direction.

I roll my eyes, trying to ignore the fact that security is not up to her.

"Forgive me, Dame Adelaide, but this _is_ the coronation of the four Kings and Queens of the prophecy and as such, more than _minimal_ security will be positioned, even if it does disturb your...ambiance. Security has been and will continue to be a priority around here."

Finnick was cool and collective dealing with the woman, her lips pressing into a thin line as he argued against her wishes.

"So be it," she tersely approves as I try to fight off a smug smirk.  
>"Good, then are we done here?" I lazily ask, wanting to get out of this room.<p>

Adelaide glowers at me a moment before readjusting her glasses and nodding to the rest of the staff. With a curt nod at me she fiercely makes her way out of the room, the staff gradually filing out after her. Beside me I can feel Finnick's reproachful stare and with an uncaring roll of my eyes, I pull myself up and meander out into the hall.

"Milady, you may want to visit the infirmary for that cut," Oreius points to the raggedy bandage wrapped around my hand, "It may fester."  
>"No," I shake my head, sidling past Finnick.<p>

In all likelihood, Oreius is probably right but for some reason I just don't want help for the cut. Maybe it's just me trying to be rebellious in a way since I can't do anything else.

"What's with the attitude?" Finnick grabs my arm, forcing me to stop.  
>"Do you <em>really<em> want me to answer that?" I rip my arm from his grasp, turning away from him in an attempt to end this conversation.  
>"Listen," he spins me back around, "There's a tradition to things around here. Dame Adelaide has been at Cair Paravel since before either of us has been born. Her seniority commands respect, even from us."<p>

"No _you_ listen! I don't _care_ how old she is, things are different now and if I'm _forced_ to be a part of this Order, there is no way in _hell_ I'm going to let her, or anyone else for that matter, treat me like that. _You_ included," I shove him away from me, stalking off to the gardens.

From across the courtyard, I see Peter and Lucy excitedly talking between themselves until Lucy waves over at me.

"Evi!" Peter smiles, starting out into the middle of the square.

Oh, no.

Panicking, I turn down another corridor without acknowledging either of them, though, I'm sure they saw me looking at them. Heart pounding and lungs out of breath, I wind up back in my room, collapsing onto my bed. My arm reaches out to a soft, feathery pillow and I clutch it to my chest, fighting off the tears that threaten to form. If only I could avoid Peter the rest of my life, things would be much easier if I wasn't left to face him.

Somewhere outside a bell tolls, signaling that lunch will be served in the main dining hall. I only know this because of our tour yesterday but I hardly feel up to eating lunch. Besides, Peter will be there...

I let out another sigh, rolling onto my back on the admittedly soft and cozy bed.

_It is forbidden for the knights of the Order to love_

My stomach churns as those words viciously run through my head and I can't help the tears that burn the corners of my eyes.

_You need to back off the High King...I'm doing this for your own good_

Finnick.

That smug, pretentious asshole.

He knew _exactly_ what going into the Order would mean for me and Peter and the pathetic s.o.b. couldn't even grow a pair to just tell me. Fucking asshole lied to me. My hands drift over my face as I try to control the emotions boiling in my veins.

"Lady Wood."

The voice out on the balcony breaks through my reverie, scaring the wits out of me. Jumping to my feet I instantly have an arrow strung, ready to fire at whatever may be out there.

"Who's there?" I try to ask with as much confidence as possible, though, I hardly think it comes across that way.  
>"No worries, milady," the voice draws nearer.<p>

The voice belongs to a female gryphon, I realize as she steps into my line of sight. For a gryphon, she is quite small, maybe around the size of a large Great Dane, not to say of course that Great Danes are small since she's definitely bigger than me. Her fur and feathers are a light blonde as opposed to the traditional brown; and spots of black dot her ears and face and she appears to be smiling at me.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, milady," she gratefully bows and I lower my arrow to my side.  
>"Who are you?"<br>"My name is Greywind. Lord Finnick suggested I be placed with you," she tells me, only confusing me even more than I already am.  
>"Placed? Are you supposed to be my babysitter or something?" I fold my arms across my chest.<p>

"He said you might say that," she chuckles, inviting herself into my room, "I'm your companion or your familiar."  
>"Familiar?"<br>"Don't you remember? In the code?" she prods.

"Right," I nod my head in recollection, "So it is written: all members of the Order must adhere to and abide by the familiar placed in their charge, seeking advice when needed, learning through experience, and trusting when in doubt."

"It's not as strict as it may sound. Basically, I'm a friend when you need me. You can tell me anything and I'm obligated by the deep magic to keep silent unless you say otherwise," Greywind explains, sitting on her haunches.

"Are you part of the Order then?" I furrow an eyebrow, not trusting anything that has to do with the Order.  
>"I must abide by the code just like you but for all intents and purposes, no. I serve Aslan. It was he who amended the code with the familiars. He saw what the deep magic was doing to the soldiers—"<br>"Driving them crazy," I conclude, seeing the logic in adding a friendly companion.

The gryphon sadly nodded, turning back toward the balcony, "I sense that you have something on your mind."

Understatement.

But all I do is turn away with another sigh. She might serve Aslan but fat chance I'll put my trust in someone from this place again anytime soon and Greywind senses this.

"I understand. When you're ready, just speak my name and I'll come," she bows once more before taking flight.

Sometimes I still feel like I'm in a ridiculous nightmare that I just can't wake up from, even though I know that's not true. I'll admit, Greywind didn't seem so bad but the rest of this place can just go to hell.

With frustrated sigh, I change into my navy Order tunic for the coronation, completing the ensemble with my weapons for security detail. A biting twinge in my hand reminds me of the cut on my palm and I figure it's about time I get it properly bandaged.

The corridors of Cair Paravel are oddly barren, and I suspect most of the denizens are already making their way to the Grand Hall for the coronation. I don't quite remember the way to the hospital wing so my progress is slow but I can't really say I mind the peace and quiet. The hum and excitement of the banquet reaches my ears as I draw near the Grand Hall, and I make certain to go round the Entrance Hall so as to avoid Peter. I've been doing that quite a lot today and I'm sure it hasn't gone past him.

"Evi."

It's not Peter, so I turn and see a beaming, brown-headed boy. Edmund's sporting a grey-blue, velvet tunic fit for royalty, and I'm able to muster a small smile for him.

"Hello, Edmund."  
>"Where've you been all day, Evi? We went down to the beach again!" he happily tells me.<br>"I was in a meeting all morning," I vaguely tell him.  
>"Well you weren't at dinner last night either," he quirks an eyebrow at me, "Peter's been looking for you y'know."<p>

My heart drops.

"Yeah," I dully nod, "I know."  
>"Then I'll go get him."<br>"No!" I latch on to his arm, preventing him from running off, "I-I mean, no it's alright. I have to go to the hospital wing anyway, to get this cut fixed up," I show him the ugly gash on my palm.

He sends me a funny look but nods anyway, "Are you sure? Because I think he really wants to talk to you."

"Yes," I desperately nod.  
>"I'll go get him anyway," he shrugs, running off before I can get another hold on him.<p>

I stop my foot against the ground in frustration before turning down the hall to the infirmary, grabbing the nearest elf to fix my hand. I can only hope that he finishes before Peter shows.

"There you are, milady. That should heal up within the next couple days," the elf tells me, wrapping some fresh bandages around my hand, the irritating twinge now gone.

I briefly mumble my thanks, hurrying out of there and running into Finnick...literally.

"Easy there. Edmund said you might be here," he catches me in his arms before I tumble backwards.

"Evi!" I hear Peter's voice at the other end of the hall.

I see Finnick glance at Peter before gazing back down at me, "Come along. We're supposed to already be in the Grand Hall."

"Evi," Peter says again, this time much closer.

I briefly look at him, seeing his smile fade, before I let Finnick lead me to the Grand Hall through a small antechamber where about ten other members are huddled, looking to me and Finnick. After I remain silent, Finnick takes it upon himself to delegate orders, positioning the soldiers at various entrances to the hall with Finnick and I positioned closest to the Kings and Queens some distance behind their thrones.

But I don't care.

All I can think about is that look on Peter's face when he saw me in Finnick's arms. He was so heartbroken and I said nothing.

God, why didn't I push Finnick away?

Why didn't I just run to Peter and tell him everything?

Why am I such a fucking coward?

Finnick and the rest of the soldiers draw up their hoods, concealing their faces and saunter out into the main hall. A nudge from Finnick conveys that I'm to do the same and I draw my hood, marching into all the happy cheers and yells from the free Narnians. Salty tears burn the corners of my eyes as Finnick and I stand at the corners of the room behind the empty thrones. The tears spill freely down my cheeks as a momentous roar echoes loudly around the hall while the Kings and Queens, accompanied by Aslan, make their way down the center isle to their thrones.

All I want them to do is shut up; I want everyone to feel as miserable and hollow as me and I don't care that it's selfish. Peter looks so happy and magnificent in that knightly tunic of his and I struggle to choke back a sob as I'm reminded of what I can never have. The hood, bathing my face in shadows, provides the perfect cover as I feel hot, angry tears burn down my cheeks as the entire hall cheers their prayer for the long life of the new reign.


	14. This Angry Little Girl

**Hello my lovely readers. Sorry for the delay! Here's a short but oh-so important chapter.**

**Thought I'd go ahead and spout off another disclaimer: yeah I own nothing related to Chronicles of Narnia. Oh and a couple f-bombs in this one...I'm never sure if I should warn readers. I've got a potty mouth so I'm used to it but I feel like some people are shocked by foul language...anyway, M for language. **

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><p>Dinner was overall uneventful, save for Dame Adelaide's obnoxious toast, not even bothering to acknowledge what Finnick and I had done to help Narnia. After dinner, the large banquet tables were whisked away, under the prying eye of Adelaide, and soft music was piped through the Grand Hall, echoing against the white, marble walls. Once dancing was well under way, about an hour ago, Dame Adelaide forced a couple of the Order members against the walls so we weren't in the way. I wasn't really in the mood to argue with her so I stayed there as most of the other soldiers were allowed to join the celebration.<p>

My arms are folded across my chest as I decline another invitation to dance from a handsome-looking faun and I cast a sidelong glance down the wall somewhat amused by Susan's love of the spiced ale, and ginger mead that clearly has alcoholic effects. Glad someone is having a good time...then again maybe not, it _is_ Susan. What did she even do to help the war? She didn't even want to be here and complained the whole way to camp.

"You should join the celebration," Finnick's voice breaks up my train of thought and I blink my eyes at him trying to register what he said.  
>"I will when you do," I hollowly comment, seeing that he, too, has his hood up and has stayed withdrawn.<br>"Excellent, then dance with me," he holds out his hand, swiping his hood back.

I look at his hand, a scowl on my face.

"Just leave me alone, Finnick," I shake my head, going to pour myself another goblet of ale.

The sweet, amber liquid passes my lips, garnering a look of disdain from Adelaide as she passes me. It's all too easy to pour myself glass after glass even though I know I shouldn't drink my feelings away but I can't stop myself.

"You've been avoiding me."

Mid-drink, my throat clenches shut as ale comes spewing from my mouth at the sound of Peter's voice. Somehow in my self-pitying stupor, I forgot completely about Peter. A warm feeling creeps across my cheeks as I turn to face him and I can't rule out if it's from the ale.

"Yeah," I slowly nodded, finally placing my goblet on the table.  
>"Is there something going on with Finnick?" he directly asks me, that pain I saw earlier blatantly visible in his gorgeous blue eyes.<br>"W-wha—No," I shake my head, trying to clear the fog the ale is creating.  
>"Then why are you avoiding me?"<br>"I'm not—I've been busy—with the order," my train of thought is choppy as the words slowly formulate in my mind, "I was inducted into it officially last night."

The pain fades in his eyes and is replaced with happiness but it doesn't make me feel any better about the situation.

"Evi, that's wonderful," he beams, taking my hand in his.  
>"I'm glad <em>you<em> think so," I mutter, flashing him the best fake-smile I can muster.  
>"Are you all right?" he furrows his brow.<br>"Yeah. Yeah, I think I just went a little overboard on the ale..." I put my hand over my flushed faced, really starting to feel the effects, "Peter I—"  
>"Come on, I want to show you something," he leads me by the hand out of the Grand Hall.<p>

In retrospect, this probably isn't the best thing for me at this point. The ale's mind-numbing effects are flowing wildly in me and Peter only becomes more and more attractive with each passing second. But it's not like I'm just going to jump his bones either. I _know_ that I have to tell him the truth...that horrible truth that's right now being completely exaggerated by the alcohol in my system and causing my emotions to flare uncontrollably.

"Yesterday I didn't get to show you how wonderful my quarters are," he smiles, bringing me into his room.

My God, it's beautiful.

The room is enormous with a high vaulted ceiling and branches off into a small hallway. A somewhat gothic décor bathes the room in dark, warm colors that match the four-poster, king-sized bed, sitting at the far end of the room. It's a lavish and ornate room, fit only for a king.

"Peter, I don't think it's appropriate for me to be in here," I comment, hovering by the doorway, hearing the soft, faded tones of music from the Grand Hall.  
>"Don't be silly. It's fine. I'm the King, remember?" he winks, drawing me farther into the room.<p>

Letting go of my hand, he flounces over to the balcony to gaze upon the breathtaking view of the glowing white moon, leaving me standing sheepishly in the middle of his room, slightly drunk and dreading what's going to happen next.

"I don't think I'll ever get accustomed to this view," he shakes his head, walking back inside, "What's the matter, Evi? You're so quiet," he lightly chuckles, bringing his hand to my cheek.

If at all possible, my face burns hotter as I feel the emotion swelling behind my eyes. Peter's soft touch on my cheek sends chills down my spine and I'm unable to contain my shudder.

"We should go back to the party," I hear myself whisper, placing my hand over his and bringing it down from my face.

A handsome smile graces his lips and I'm drawn into his blue pools of eyes, "We don't have to," he gently and almost shyly says, "You could stay here, with me."

My breath catches in my throat thinking how badly I want to stay but knowing the consequences if I do. This is it, I have to tell him now. I have to tell him everything...it's going to break his heart.

"You want to stay...don't you?" his face is so close to mine now that I feel his breath dance across my cheeks.

His lips are just about to meet mine when I turn my head, his lips making contact with my cheek instead. My uncontrollable emotion bubbles over in the form of tears and it's not long before Peter notices this, a concerned look contorting his features. His hand is on my face again, trying to get me to look at him but I refuse; I'm too scared.

"Peter...we can't...I can't," I cry.  
>"Is it Finnick?" he slowly asks, afraid he might not like the answer.<br>"No, Peter, this isn't about Finnick! Peter I want to be with you more than anything!" I cry, my fingers curling around his tunic, "But the Order...there's this code. 'It is forbidden for the knights of the Order to love, consort, copulate, or commit any of the like with the individuals placed their charge...'" I bitterly recite.

"I don't—"  
>"It means <em>you<em>, Peter! And if I'm with you, I break the code! And if I break the code...I'm kicked out of Narnia," I release my hold on his tunic, furiously wiping away my tears that steadily replace themselves.

My chest heaves up and down as I can't bring myself to look at him in the unbearable silence that follows. Pathetically leaning against the stone wall, I choke back a couple sobs and wait for him to say something.

"Why would you join the Order then?" his question comes as a tiny whisper, the emotion evident in his voice.

Swallowing another sob, I turn my head up to the ceiling with my eyes closed, thinking to how those animals wrestled me to the ground and cut my hand, all while Finnick stood by and watched. Even if I did tell Peter what they did, it wouldn't change anything. Peter's breath becomes louder and I risk a glance at him, seeing him fighting off his own tears. It takes all the willpower I have not to run into his arms and damn the entire Order. But my willpower doesn't matter as he strides to me instead, pressing his hand to my back.

"Evi, I—"  
>"Don't," I caution, knowing that if I let him come closer I won't be able to resist my urges, "Just don't, Peter."<p>

His blue eyes cast a look of sorrow down at me and I'm forced to push him away from me to leave without another word. The slam of Peter's door behind me echoes in the dark corridor and all I can do to keep myself from breaking down is cover my face with my hands. Stifled cries escape my lips and bounce off the walls, masking the sounds of the ball.

"You did the right thing."

Finnick suddenly steps forward from the shadow at my left and I darkly glare at him, standing up straight, feeling anger welling in my heart.

"What? Are you spying on me now?" I hiss, not bothering to wipe my tears away.  
>"Only looking after you," he softly replies.<br>"Yeah? Well why don't you look after me a little less!" I bark, turning on my heel away from him.

"I tried to warn you!" he calls after me.

A scream rips through the air as I furiously whip back around, frantically stomping up to his face.

"You _fucking_ LIAR!" I shove his chest, sending him stumbling backward, "You told me _NOTHING_! You _KNEW_ what would happen if I joined the Order and YOU LIED!"

Finnick showing up here broke the dam and nothing is going to stop my rage now.

"I _TRUSTED_ you, you backstabbing jackass! I even thought I _liked_ you!"  
>"Being in the Order is a great honor!" he yells back.<br>"TELL THAT TO HIM!" I roar, pointing to the wall that divides Peter's room from the corridor.

Seething with anger, my body shakes as I face Finnick, not at all done with my tirade.

"You stood there! Ignoring every shout I made for them to stop! You just WATCHED as they cut my hand and FORCED me to join your _fucking_ pathetic order! What the hell kind of friend are you?"

I pause, allowing myself to catch my breath and sweep away my burning tears, "I couldn't even leave if I wanted to! I'm STUCK here! I'm not a general, Finnick, I'M A SLAVE! FORCED TO GIVE UP _EVERYTHING_ I EVER WANTED! ALL BECAUSE OF _YOU!_...Don't think I'm _ever_ going to forget that."

"But you haven't lost everything," he steps forward, preventing me from stalking off, "You have a duty, Evelyn. There are exceptions to the rules...the Order must be governed by a Son of Adam or a Daughter of Eve. Humans are dying out in Narnia, Evi. _We_ can be to—"

SMACK!

My hand flew so fast Finnick had next to no time to deflect my blow.

_"Go. To hell_," I growl, nostrils flaring as Finnick holds a hand to his face where I slapped him.

The truth finally comes out.

Finnick's lie wasn't for the Order, it was for himself. He knew that once I joined the Order he could have me for himself without having to worry about Peter. He knew that if I ever wanted to love someone or have a family it would have to be with him. He knew that eventually, I would have no choice. I _am_ a slave.

Chilled, salty waves wash up to my feet as I stand in solitude on the beach, the moon bathing the sand around me in white light. At this point, I feel like I'm beyond tears and anger, all being replaced with helplessness and confusion. Gazing out at the silver water, a sigh passes my lips, my body still trembling.

_This is what you wanted_.

I can almost hear Arma's taunting voice in my head, telling me the ugly truth I already knew.

_You asked for a more adventurous life_.

And he is right. This _is_ what I asked for; I wanted to trade my mundane, superficial life for all the hard times of the past. Now I can't even go back to the life I knew. And it's nobody's fault but my own...I asked for this.

"Evi."

It's Edmund and Lucy. Those wonderful children.

The sight of them causes me to break down in tears and they wrap their arms around me, feeling my sadness. I hold them to me, crying into Lucy's hair. They are the little siblings I never had and their presence is enough to give me hope and tell me that there is something for me to live for.

"We're sorry, Evi," Lucy whispers, squeezing my hand.  
>"How—"<br>"You and Finnick weren't exactly quiet," Edmund huddles into my arm.

Despite everything that's happened this evening, I'm able to crack a smile at him as we all settle into the soft, white sand.

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><p><strong>Hmm, not exactly the best start of the "Golden Age" for Evi...<strong>


	15. I Can't Quit You Baby

**Does anyone else just LOVE the faces Peter makes in Prince Caspian? I only ask because I was browsing through some icons for my profile and I just about died. Love that boy...**

**Anyway, here we are in the Golden Age! Super excited about this because there's so much to work with in the world of Narnia and I don't have to be tied down by movie/book plot... **

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><p><strong>-Four Years After The Battle of Beruna-<strong>

"This is the third raid on our western borders this month," Finnick hisses to me in the dimly lit corridors of Cair Paravel.

I roll my eyes at him, clutching my bleeding arm to my chest and catching sight of the blood streaming down his face. The queen's followers have not gone down quietly since her demise, causing a great deal of trouble, most of it escalating within these past couple months, giving Finnick the idea that they might be staging a rebellion in alliance with Telmar northwest of the Western Mountains. Finnick and I were on patrol near the Cauldron Pool and West Watch when we were attacked.

"I hardly think they are plotting some sort of massive strike. Their numbers aren't infinite, Finnick," I remind him.  
>"But they <em>are<em> growing," he emphasizes, stopping when I whirl around to face him.  
>"And what do you propose we do?"<br>"Alert the High King and assemble the army."

Finnick, as I learned not long after joining the Order, is always quick to amass the army for even the most trivial of problems. I'm not about to shatter the peace Peter has built all because he has a hunch.

"That decision is not up to you or me. We'll discuss this later," I end the conversation, heading into the infirmary to get my arm bandaged.

Things were...ok between me and Finnick. As my second in command I was forced to reconcile with him after our confrontation outside Peter's room all those years ago; even though I still quite haven't forgiven him, a fact I almost constantly remind of.

A lot has changed since then, though. After my initial shock, I was able to fully step into my role, becoming General Evelyn Wood. By request of Peter, I'm in charge of all of Narnia's defense system, including the Order and the Royal Army. With this responsibility I've grown to love Narnia and its people more than anything. At this point, I'd be devastated if I was forced to leave. As for appearance's sake, I'm not much taller at twenty-one years old, definitely the shortest of all the Pevensies now, but I'm a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield.

Finnick is about the same. He's still arrogant and insufferable and continues to try and win me over whenever possible, much to my great annoyance. But I can trust him, which is more than I could say four years ago.

The era we now live in quickly became known as The Golden Age, much to the credit of our esteemed Kings and Queens, who I've grown incredibly close to.

Lucy is known as The Valiant, not hesitating to join Finnick or me in our patrols. She's much taller now with long auburn hair and fights much like me, very quick and nimble. Nearly everybody in Narnia loves her and there's no reason they shouldn't. If she's not at Cair Paravel she's out in the country, tending to the villages, spending time with her people, mostly Tumnus and the Beavers. Or she's out with Aslan when he stops by, monitoring the towns at Narnia's borders. She really is a Queen of the people.

Susan is known as The Gentle, which I still claim should be Susan The Coward. She doesn't fight and she doesn't govern. Honest to God, she sits on her throne, listens to the villagers' problems and delegates people to take care of it for her. She solves nothing herself and leaves everything to her siblings. All she is, is a figurehead, albeit a very pretty one, catching the eye of several politicians from neighboring countries. That's something I _do_ envy about her, I admit. But I suppose I'm biased. Susan and I still have a strained relationship for some reason which I'm sure will never really change.

Completely opposite from his sister, Edmund is known as The Just. If I'm not on patrol with Finnick, I'm with Edmund, maybe even more so than Peter. It's amazing how much he's grown up, and I don't just mean in the physical sense. Edmund really struggles with his past betrayal of his family and he does so much to make up for it and prove himself, even if his siblings don't feel like he has to. He's kept true to his word about protecting me, saving my ass on more than one occasion and he's always there when I've needed to talk to someone. Ed is incredibly deserving of his title and manages Narnia's judicial system that he helped create with Peter. Edmund tends to a great deal of the political and financial business of Cair Paravel, often going with Peter to Archenland and Ettinsmoor. And as of late, he's caught the eye of many ladies, much to my amusement.

And then there's Peter appropriately known as The Magnificent. But where do I even begin with Peter? He's certainly grown into a tall and unbelievably handsome young man, a fine suitor for potential allies and as for his title, well, he's successfully developed peaceful alliances with Archenland, Ettinsmoor, and several provinces in the Great Eastern Ocean, solidified Narnia's borders to the north and the west, implemented a strong currency leading to a high standard of living for the citizens of Narnia, and is currently building infrastructure to link the outskirts of Narnia to the main hubs. As per Peter's style he's humble about all of this, crediting others for his accomplishments, making him that much _more_ magnificent...to me at least.

Our relationship is somewhat...complicated. Peter didn't back down after I told him the truth and as a result our relationship grew. My feelings for him are still very strong and border dangerously on inappropriate in the eyes of the Order and I know he feels the same way. When we're alone, Peter gets very close and very affectionate with me, taking any chance he can to touch me in subtle little ways: a hair tuck here or a hand-squeeze there. I often catch him looking at me during council, when he's supposed to be paying attention but he only has eyes for me. We're always testing the waters, seeing how far we can go before someone, namely Finnick, has to remind me of the code. As much as I love our relationship, it _kills_ me inside, knowing that we have to hide much of it and never really give in to our feelings...

After my arm was bandaged, I quietly head to the East Wing where my room resides. It's good to be back; Finnick and I have been gone for almost two months, flushing out the queen's lingering supporters. A door down the hall from mine creaks open, the sound of heavy footsteps on the marble floor resonating throughout the corridor.

"Evi, you're back!" Edmund's voice happily but quietly cheers.  
>"Hello, Ed," I chuckle as the tall, dark-haired boy wraps his arms around me, "What are you still doing up?"<br>"Greywind said Adelaide was in a tizzy. Something about a patrol returning and I was just heading out to see if you were with them," he explains with a bright smile.  
>"It's not like we <em>planned<em> to come back at such a late hour," I roll my eyes, inviting Edmund into my chamber.

Very un-king-like, he hurdles onto my couch, making himself rather comfortable while I discard and hang up my weapons and leather armor.

"Peter will be glad you're back," Edmund smugly points out as I change upstairs in the loft into a slack pair of trousers and loosely-fitting white shirt. I can practically see the smirk on his face and all I can do shake my head. He and Lucy are _menaces_ when it comes to me and Peter, teasing us both almost _non-stop_.

"What about that girl from Anvard?" I come back down, changing the subject.

I see Edmund roll his eyes and fall back onto the throw pillow, "She won't let me be, Evi! I get a raven _five_ times a day from her!"

"Ed, she can't be _that_ bad," I laugh, lighting a few candles to lighten my dark room.  
>"But she <em>is<em>!" he whines, rolling to bury his face in the cushion.  
>"Did you ever think of giving her a chance?" I pose with a chuckle, blowing out the match in my hand.<p>

He groans in the pillow and I know this conversation is going nowhere.

"Susan's having another ball," he abruptly sits up.  
>"Is she now? Imagine that," I sarcastically say, making Ed chuckle.<br>"She's invited King Lune and the court from Anvard," he wrinkles his nose, knowing that includes his admirer.  
>"You know most guys your age would love to have a bunch of girls pining for them," I furrow my eyebrow.<p>

He stands up with a sigh, "Well you know better than anyone that there's only _one_ girl I've got my eye on."

I roll my eyes and smirk at the punk, knowing he was referring to me. Ed totally has a thing for me and he _totally _knows that _I _know it, often pointing it out to get me to laugh. He's not stupid, though, he understands that it will go _nowhere_ and he knows not to make smart comments around Peter.

"You're such a charmer, Ed," I shake my head as he brushes his lips against my cheek.  
>"Maybe I can turn you around on the whole code-breaking ordeal," he smirks.<br>"I'm sure your brother would _love_ that," I teasingly push him toward the door.  
>"Goodnight, Evi," he winks with a smirk to rival even Finnick.<br>"Good_night_, Ed," I shake my head and watch as he closes the door behind him.

**- x –**

The next morning, I'm awoken by the constant squeak of the balcony door swinging on its hinges. Rolling on my side away from the door, my legs bump against a hard form comfortably lying in a huddled circle. Tiredly I let out a groan, hitting the form a bit harder this time.

"Grey, how many times do I have to ask you to close the door behind you when you come in?" I whine, clambering out of bed to latch the glass door shut.

The small gryphon hadn't even stirred when I got out of bed and I shake my head at her, going to change into my tunic. There's no point for me to go back to bed now, I'm already wide awake.

"I'm going to the council chamber, Grey," I tell the half-awake gryphon once I've changed.

She mutters some sleepy response, adjusting herself so that she now is sprawled out the length of my bed. With an orbital roll of my eyes, I head out for the council chamber but not before stopping to retrieve Finnick.

"Wakie, wakie, Finnick," I sweetly say, knocking loudly on his door.

There's a muffled noise from inside and I rap obnoxiously on the wood.

"Finnick! If I have to be up, so do you!"

To my surprise, the door suddenly swings open to a very disheveled, very tired Finnick, who, at the moment, is lacking a shirt entirely. He casually leans against the door frame, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and raking his fingers through his hair. I furrow an eyebrow at him, not bothering to conceal my onceover of his toned chest.

"Wha-? Why are you up so _early_?" he mumbles.  
>"Why aren't you wearing a shirt?" I counter, "Nevermind. Put some clothes on, we're going to the council chamber."<br>"Ok," he yawns, disappearing into his room, only to return a few minutes later dressed in his blue tunic.

Finnick sluggishly follows me to the council chamber, too tired to even keep pace with me. He's such a baby sometimes; honestly, it's not _that_ early. Approaching the chamber, I can already hear Adelaide's obnoxious voice, tattling on us for arriving so late last night, or rather, early this morning.

"Yes because that was our intention all long," I drone at her, sidling along the wall to the chair on Peter's left.

Peter's face instantly brightens upon my arrival and he can barely contain the smile that now stretches his lips. Flashing him a quick smile in return, I settle myself in the chair without drawing any more attention to us. Adelaide glowers at Finnick and me before continuing her speech about castle maintenance. After she's finished, I'm able to tell Peter about the raids and Finnick's preposterous idea, all while my aforementioned partner lightly snores beside me, his head resting on his hand.

"Finnick says we should assemble the army," I tell Peter, shoving my elbow in Finnick's side to wake him up.  
>"That would prove very costly, Milady," Onoffre the castle treasurer tells me.<br>"I'm not saying I agree with him, Ono," I frown at him, "But there might be some kind of underlying motive here with these raids."  
>"General Wood is right," Peter nods, "Is there a way we can afford to send out more troops to the posts?"<p>

Everyone is silent as Onoffre leafs through a few papers and jots down a few calculations. Sometimes I think he takes his job _way_ too seriously, especially since everyone knows we can afford to spare a few soldiers.

"It'll be costly," he repeats and I roll my eyes.  
>"Instead of sending out soldiers from the royal army, Your Majesty, might I suggest having some of the Order members investigate the borders. They'll be far more efficient and can take out a threat without waiting for approval," I say, knowing that the Order isn't bound by money.<p>

"Brilliant," Peter nods, getting to his feet as several chairs shuffle against the ground, all of us doing the same, "I think that's all for this morning."

The council members slowly file out of the room, some lingering to talk amongst themselves, none of them in any hurry to return to their jobs. I fold my arms across my chest, frowning at Finnick who has since fallen back asleep. With a swift kick to his chair he jumps out of his seat frantically looking for the fire.

"You're an embarrassment, Fin, honestly," I shake my head with a slight smile.  
>"Can I go back to bed?" he ignores my comment.<br>"Just go," I wave my hand and he's gone before I can say anything else.

Peter and I are the only ones left in the room and I silently watch as he gathers his papers into a neat stack on the table. He glances at the door briefly, waiting for those remaining just outside door to finally leave. Soon their voices fade and Peter drops his papers to tightly wrap his arms around me. For a moment, I let myself sink into his chest and enjoy the feeling of his arms snuggly wrapped around my waist.

"I'm glad you're safe," he whispers into my hair.

With a sigh, I pull myself away from him and hop up onto the table. It's silent between us but I can feel his gorgeous blue eyes on me. This is one of those moments where a lot goes unsaid between us, where we can only guess what the other would say. I meet his gaze, seeing a certain sadness lingering there; a sadness that's almost always there when I look at him. Sometimes it gets so bad that Peter and I want nothing to do with each other because it's just _that_ hard to be in each other's presence and this is turning into one of those times.

"I was thinking about going on that investigation," I tell him, already knowing he wouldn't like that idea.  
>"But you've only just returned," he frowns.<p>

Since coming to Narnia, staying in one place for too long hasn't really been my forte, much to Peter's dislike. Whenever he can, he tries to tag along with me just to be close but as of late it's become too difficult so I avoid telling him details of my patrols.

Turning my head down, I sigh, picking at the threads of my bandage.

"Susan is putting together another banquet," he says, noting my silence, and sits beside me on the table.  
>"Edmund told me last night."<br>"Right. Anvard's entire court is coming," he slowly continues.  
>"No doubt King Lune will try and pair you with one of the court," I finish for him, easing his apprehension some.<br>"I do not wish to marry," he shakes his head.  
>"A marriage to a member of the Archenland court would permanently secure a Narnian-Archen alliance," I point out, putting my personal feelings aside and acting as his advisor.<p>

"The alliance has been secure enough without marriage between the two nations," he protests, voice more determined.  
>"But Peter—"<br>"No, Evi! I will _not_ marry some _strange_ girl I've met only twice in my life when I—"

Peter cuts his sentence short but I have a good idea of where he was going, probably along the line of "I have you" and that's putting it mildly. My mouth opens to say something but then I close it again, a frown crossing my brow. He can't keep doing that.

"I'm going to the beach," I shake my head, getting out of that room before he says anything else.

The beach below Cair Paravel is where I always go when I want to be alone. Much of the time I'm not _really_ alone with the beach teeming with all kinds of fisherman and folks who live down here. Since the coronation of the Pevensies, humans from surrounding countries have started to settle in Narnia for one reason or another. It's nice being around actual human beings. It makes me feel saner since I'm not constantly conversing with talking animals.

Stripping my tunic, boots, and stockings, my feet sink into the warm sand as I wave at a passing pair of fisherman, who is hauling in a sizable catch. Salty, fresh air tingles my nose and I roll up my pants to wade out into the warm tide.

I love the water.

I love the way it feels against my skin as it comes in and out with the foaming waves. I love how I just get lost in the ever-changing tempo of the current. If just for that moment, all I have on my mind is the next wave and I don't have to worry about the Order, the raids, Peter, or anything else going on in this joke of a life I have.

"Not here a full day and you're already down here?"

And just like that, I'm pulled back into reality.

Squinting into the sun, I turn my head to glance back at Edmund who is wading out to me, already having removed his tunic and boots. A large white-cap comes roaring in, splashing right into him, making me chuckle only garnering a reproving look from him and a couple playful splashes to get even.

"What happened, Evi?" he asks, becoming serious.  
>"I can't just come down to the beach?" I ask the question, though, already knowing Edmund knows me better than that and the dubious look on his face proves it.<br>"Can't have been Susan or Lu. They aren't back from the Beavers'. And it wasn't Finnick because he's still sleeping. So that leaves..."

Ed trails off, knowing before even began that list that it's Peter that's troubling me.

"Peter's going to throw away his political career for me," I dip my fingers into the salty water, "Everyone knows it. I see the way they all look at me y'know. Like I'm single-handedly going to ruin 'The Golden Age.'"

"Evi, that's not true," he frowns, "What makes you say that?"  
>"The court from Anvard is coming and you know King Lune is looking to pair one of his council with Peter. But he won't have it. He said he can't 'marry some strange girl' because he has me," I roughly slap the surface of the water.<p>

"He actually said that?" Edmund raises his eyebrows.  
>"No," I shake my head, feeling the shame creep into me again, "But it was implied."<p>

Even I know Peter and I can't keep going on the way we are. It's already starting to take its toll on me, causing more stress than I need. Sooner or later we're both going to have to consider other options. Mine consisting solely of Finnick and Finnick only, a fact I do _not_ want to hear right now. But Peter. Peter could have a real chance at a family and real love. The only problem is he doesn't want it.

He wants _me_.


	16. Dance in the Dark

**Couple notes: I've updated the Evi and Finnick pictures in my profile, which gave me the inspiration to post the next chapter ha. **

**Also, I'm catching up to where I'm currently writing. So if it actually gets to that point, updates will come much slower since I have to brainstorm and tap into my muse for plot.**

**Lastly, I want to thank **_**you**_**, my wonderful readers. I must sound like a broken record when I keep thanking you but it just means **_**that**_** much to me! Much love to princess emma of narnia, and TiffyWiffy1205 for the reviews, even if they are just a couple words! **

**[Insert redundant disclaimer here]**

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><p>Despite our little disagreement, Peter went on as if it never happened, swiping me away from Edmund to go spar and have a little walk around the gardens. He does that a lot, acting as if he won't have to let me go, even though we both know it's a lie. Most days I'm able to forget about that and enjoy my time with Peter but lately it's been an awful burden. Still, Peter carries on as he always does, spending time with me, teasing me, flirting with me; all pretending like nothing's wrong. Peter's so stubborn that way. I knew that when I first met him. To be honest, that's one of the reasons I—<p>

"You're doing it again," Lucy muses with a smile.  
>"Doing what?" I innocently reply, running a brush through her silky, auburn hair.<p>

Lucy spins around, a frank look on her face, completely catching me in my daydream. I sigh, pulling her hair back and weaving it into an elegant braid.

"Every time you go into thought, I can feel you stop brushing my hair," she explains, "What's got you so preoccupied?"  
>"The fact that <em>I'm<em> the one braiding your hair and not your sister. Isn't this normally what siblings do?" I tease.  
>"I've told you before, Susan's <em>boring<em>. Besides, as far as I'm concerned you _are_ my sister, Evi."

I smile at the youngest Queen, who at seventeen isn't quite so young anymore. The court from Anvard arrived today and Susan is too busy with the ball to help Lucy. So instead she asked me. I was more than happy to fix her hair and dress her in a beautiful blue gown. It's almost as fun as dressing myself for the ball...As it were, I'm required to wear my Order uniform just in the slight chance some bloody massacre breaks out...as if.

"There. You're all set, Lu, and you look gorgeous," I compliment her, bringing her to a full-length mirror.

For a moment she pensively examines herself, feeling the silky fabric of her dress between her fingertips but then looks at me through the mirror.

"Is that what _you're_ going to wear?" she points at the tunic, "How do you expect to impress Peter?"

A shade of red flushes over my cheeks before I can help it and I see it through the glass.

"Duty before beauty, Your Grace," I bow.  
>"Clever," she rolls her eyes, striding toward the door, "Aren't you coming, Evi?"<br>"I have to meet up with Finnick. We're in charge of protecting you and King Lune during the festivities," I drone, not at all looking forward to that.  
>"Rubbish! I'm officially giving you the night off...or relieving you from duty...or whatever you want to call it. If you have any problems you can just take it up with Peter," she winks, slipping out of the door.<p>

I can't help but laugh. If only it were that simple. Out in the corridor I can already hear the revelries going underway some distance away in the Grand Hall. One day, maybe, I'll be able to properly partake in the events, but for now, I'm stuck with Finnick.

"Knock, knock, your date has arrived," I pound on Finnick's door.

It swings open, Finnick standing there dressed in his uniform as well, looking just about as excited as I am.

"Are you _really_ my date?" he furrows his eyebrow.  
>"You wish," I roll my eyes, leading the way to the hall.<br>"I _do_ wish," he comments, catching up with me, "What's wrong with being my date?"  
>"Do you <em>really<em> want me to answer that?"  
>"Well no...I guess not," he grumbles, making me smirk.<p>

The Grand Hall is crowded with Narnians and Archenlanders alike, the hall ringing with the sounds of laughter and merriment. At the far end of the hall a long table is set up running the width of the room and facing six other tables that run lengthwise. It reminds me a lot of the Great Hall at Hogwarts and no doubt these tables will be removed for dancing after dinner. Peter, at the head table, looks as radiant as ever sitting next to a lovely young girl around our age. Her strawberry blonde hair sits perfectly in waves on her shoulders and her fair skin complements the gorgeous emerald dress she's wearing. This must be Arianna Barrett, the King's niece and one of the court. And she's completely and utterly absorbed in Peter.

Trying to ignore this fact, I follow Finnick up to the head table to our seats on Susan's right and at the end of the banquet table. She bats her pretty eyes at Finnick and brings him down into his seat, leaving me with the small end seat. Not that I mind, I've got the adorable company of King Lune's hunting hounds who have taken a fast liking to me upon their arrival. All of them are strictly Archen meaning they don't speak, which is just fine by me. My favorite is Samson, he reminds me a lot of Gatsby with his baby doll brown eyes and golden fur.

Dinner is highly uneventful as it should be. I bide my time listening to King Lune tell stories of his youth and listening to Susan chew Finnick's ear off by telling him about all the preparations for tonight's ball. But I'm more interested in the way Peter desperately tries to shake Arianna off his arm and converse more with Edmund and Jorah, the King's vizier from Archenland. After dinner, as I suspected, the tables are whisked away all being replaced with a lively band and several dancers, including Edmund who _clearly_ has been enjoying the brandy the Archenlanders brought with them.

Oh, Edmund, I shake my head with a smile; he always knows how to party. Work hard, play hard, he always says...almost non-stop since I told him the phrase two years ago. Cup of brandy in hand, he pulls dryad after nymph after girl into his drunken dance, never once spilling his drink. He catches Susan's hand, the hall echoing with her screams of defiant protest.

"Should we go rescue her?" Finnick laughs, standing next to me as we watch her struggle to get away from her intoxicated brother.  
>"Nah, he's harmless!" I giggle, looking past the squabbling siblings to catch Peter's eye for the third time that night. His eyes twinkle with delight as they meet mine and I can tell he's had quite a bit to drink as well. My gaze with Peter is abruptly broken as Edmund merrily spins me into his chest and dancing me around the floor.<p>

Edmund's breath is tainted with the smell of alcohol and I'm beginning to understand why Susan wanted to get away so strongly. He twirls me round and round and round, not at all seeming to be bothered by the fast circles we were making. Head reeling, I suddenly crash into a strong body, belonging to none other than Peter. Peter's arms surround my waist, preventing Edmund from taking me away, not that it matters to him much. Ed just grabs the next girl for a spin around the room.

"Thanks for that," I shake my head, feeling Peter's arms loosen somewhat.

I break free from Peter's hold, turning to watch Edmund schmooze his way around as the band is forced to play softer music to halt The Just King's frenzy. Ed places his crown on an elderly woman's head and brings her out onto the dance floor in a wonky sort of waltz. I laugh looking to Peter to gauge his reaction only to find that he had been watching me the whole time.

"Do you...would you care to dance, Lady Evelyn?" he smiles at me, holding out his hand.

He's never done that before, asked me to dance I mean. I warily glance around at the others surrounding us, none of them apparently paying us any mind.

"Don't make me ask you again, Evi," Peter teases as he drops the formalities, earning a smile from me as I take his hand.

I can't help the smile that tugs at the corners of my lips as Peter gracefully and elegantly leads me in the waltz. It seems like in everything he does, he's perfect. I love the way my hand fits into his as we dance and I love the way he smiles down at me. I love everything about this moment.

The music changes tempo, slowing to a great degree, Peter's hands sliding down to my waist without my permission but I snake my arms around his neck anyway. We're much closer now, chest to chest, and I would've enjoyed it more if I wasn't so self-conscious about the people all around us.

"Forget about them," Peter whispers with a smile, sensing my apprehension, "Just keep your eyes on me."

His hand presses snuggly against the small of my back in reassurance and all I do his stare into those sharp blue eyes of his, losing myself and forgetting about everything going on around us. I don't even hear the music anymore. It's just me and Peter. I think I know now why Peter refuses to move on. It's for moments like these where all that matters is the two of us, for however brief it may be.

A thunderous applause brings us back to reality and we find the band has stopped playing for a short break. Peter clears his throat, removing his hands from my waist and I dutifully bow before him, striding away to grab myself a flute of wine without a second thought.

"I mean did you _see_ the way they were looking at each other, Jorah?"  
>"She's forbidden to love him, milday."<br>"Doesn't seem to have stopped her!"  
>"You're just wishing he gazed at <em>you<em> in that manner."

The voices were coming from the opposite side of the table and they belong to Arianna and Jorah. Apparently neither of them notices me standing a few paces behind them.

"What makes the little _whore_ think she can get away with this? It's downright scandalous!"  
>"I'm telling you, Ari, there is nothing between them. The King wouldn't risk such an outrage."<p>

It appears I've grossly underestimated the consequences of Peter's and my actions. Our relationship is detrimental to his whole image outside of Cair Paravel. With a sickening feeling I begin to wonder what else people are saying about me. With a sigh, I turn away from the party just as the band resumes play and people begin dancing again.

That Arianna is a total bitch. Going off and calling me a whore. No wonder Peter was completely bored with her at dinner. Still...her words haunt me and I know she's right.

"Edmund!"

I'm about to turn at the sound of Lucy's panicked voice when I'm sideswiped by a sickly pale Edmund who tears into the nearest bathroom. I look to Lucy for an explanation.

"I told him he was overdoing it with the brandy but he didn't listen!" she slows her pace with a sigh.  
>"What happened?" I shake my head, hearing distraught cries coming from the Grand Hall.<br>"He vomited all over Lady Barrett," Lucy sadly says but then a moment later cracks a smile, "It was a riot, Evi, you should've seen it! She's a right piece of work that Arianna."

I would've smiled at her comment if I wasn't concerned about Edmund puking his guts out in the bathroom.

"Let's go help your brother," I shake my head, pushing my way into the bathroom.

We find Ed miserably slumped over the toilet, hair in a disarray and matted down with sweat from his brow. He's not throwing up but by his pathetic groans he really wants to. I kneel down next to him, sweeping his black hair back out of his face while Lucy wets a cloth and fills a cup up with water.

"How you doing, Ed?" I send him a weak smile.

He groans in response, Lucy handing me the cloth and I blot it over his warm cheeks. Suddenly he lurches forward causing Lucy and me to jump back and grimace as he hurls into the toilet.

Poor Edmund.

"So dizzy," he chokes out, leaning back once more.  
>"Do you think you can make it back to my chamber?" I ask, wiping his face again.<p>

He meekly nods and Lucy rushes over to help me lift him up since he probably wouldn't be able to walk himself. We manage to set him upright and take a few steps over to the door before he breaks from our grip and hurries back to the toilet, now dry heaving.

"Can't stand up," he shakes his head and Lucy sends me a worried look.  
>"Give me that cup of water," I tell her, bringing the cup to Edmund's lips, "Just a little bit, Ed."<p>

He gulps down a sip of the water and we wait a little bit. I know how he's feeling and it's _not_ fun...that's putting it nicely.

"Let us take you back. Keep your eyes closed, it'll make you feel better," I tell him, hooking my arm underneath his.

This time Lucy and I are able to get him out of the bathroom and down the hall, with a few breaks to adjust his weight between us...Edmund is not the same little fourteen year old boy anymore. Struggling with his weight we burst into my room, flopping Ed onto the couch probably a bit more recklessly than we should have. Lucy grabs a waste bin and puts it next to him just in case he's not done being sick.

"I'm such an idiot. You probably think I'm an idiot, Evi. I'm so embarrassed, you shouldn't be taking care of me. You should be with Peter, dancing and whirling and twirling," he rambles but then sticks his head into the bin.

It's just a false alarm though.

"You looked so happy!" he sends me a pale smile, "I was jealous of Peter. I wish you were looking at _me _like that."  
>"You're drunk, Ed," I sharply say, pushing him back against the couch and pouring the water down his throat.<p>

Lucy giggles behind me, taking the cup back.

"Get him some more water and a couple slices of bread. Nothing special just something plain," I tell her and she disappears with a nod. Edmund has since fallen silent and contentedly lays on his back with his eyes closed. I remain at his side carefully watching over him.

"You _were_ happy, though," he speaks, not in the overly happy tone anymore but somewhat sobered up, "Happiest I've seen you in a while."  
>"You don't know what you're saying," I write off his comment.<br>"Yes I do, Evi," he says a bit more forcefully and then sighs, "Peter loves you. After your dance he pulled me aside, not able to keep still and beaming like a child. He told me he's in love with you, Evi."

Instead of being happy, Edmund's words bring tears and a frown to my face. I'm forced to bite back those tears as I bring the blanket up to his chin.

"Go to sleep, Ed," I order, quickly brushing the tears from my lashes.

The door opens and Lucy has returned with the bread and water.

"He's sleeping now but you can put those on the table there. I'm going to go to bed but you can stay if you want. There are more blankets and pillows in the closet and you can take my bed if you want," I tell her, still shaken from what Edmund told me.

"You can have your bed, I'll just sleep on the other couch," she shakes her head, eyeing the troubled state I'm in, "Are you all right, Evi?"  
>"I'm fine," I flash her a quick smile and head upstairs to my loft before she can ask any more questions.<p>

Love?

How can Peter possibly _love_ me? How does he even _know_? He doesn't know what love is and frankly neither do I. How am I supposed to face him tomorrow? With all that's been going on I've never considered _love. _Certainly strong feelings but _love?_ He has all these feelings for me and I can't even return them. I mean, maybe _before_, when all I wanted to do was get out...but now I could never leave this place. I could never _abandon_ everyone I know and all the Narnians I care about.

Love.

If Peter really does love me, he has to stop. He has to stop and let me go. If he really does love me, he won't make me choose between him and Narnia.

It has to end.


	17. Magic Filled the Air

**Fun stuff coming up :) I just wrote a chapter that got **_**me**_** all emotional. I can't wait until we get there!**

**Also, if you all are interested, the song that I have almost on constant repeat when I write this story is "Big Machine" by the Goo Goo Dolls. It just completely captures Peter and Evi and I totally didn't intend the story that way. Great song, though, and I recommend listening to it. **

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><p>"Well, I searched all over for the large stag before Corin claimed I missed it, seeming very disappointed with me!"<p>

The hunt has been a total bore with nothing to do but listen to King Lune's enthusiastic hunting stories as if we're all interested. Finnick looks as if he were about to fall asleep on his horse, Peter was never really invested in Lune's stories and occasionally glances back at me trying to get me to smile, I mostly play fetch with Samson, and the soldiers around us seem to be accustomed to Lune's ravings.

"When we returned to Anvard I began telling Emlen all about the great stag Corin saw but Corin had nothing to say! So I says 'Tell your mum about the stag you saw' and Corin, confused says 'what stag?' Well and by now I'm frustrated and say 'Why, the big stag you _told_ me you saw!' And he replies the little sod 'I didn't see a stag, father, but you were funny looking for him!'"

King Lune's momentous laugh shakes the trees around us and I chuckle, seeing Finnick startled out of his daze, nearly falling off his horse.

"The little rotter only _pretended_ to see the stag!" King Lune's laughing finally starts to subside.

Even I had to admit that story was comical as I smile at Peter who looks back at me with a similar smile. His smile, though, makes my heart sink. I haven't had a chance to speak with him yet about what Edmund told me and I hope I never have to. I hope Peter will naturally come to the same conclusion and distance himself on his own.

I hope for a lot of things but which of them have actually happened?

A frown now turned on my lips, I throw the stick off into the woods for Samson as King Lune begins another tale. The soldiers behind me let out a small groan and I smirk.

"Bloody hell, how many stories does the man have?" Finnick mumbles beside me and I'm forced to restrain a laugh.

Then I realize that Samson has not returned. I look for his golden fur around the back of my horse but he's nowhere to be seen. That's when I noticed the thickening of the trees, the brisk nature of the wind, and the overall grey color cast over the land. A slight panic settles into my stomach and I click my tongue, turning my horse around to leave the group for a moment. I have to figure out our bearings but nothing around me seems familiar.

"Is everything all right?" Finnick whispers upon my return a couple minutes later.  
>"What was the last checkpoint we passed?" I ask him with a frown.<p>

The dumb look on his face reminds me that he wasn't paying attention earlier. I roll my eyes seeing him about to respond when Peter cuts him off, "We passed the outpost at the northern part of the Caurus Mountains just over two hours ago."

By this point everyone has stopped and Peter gazes back at me, eyeing the stressed look on my face. The tensely silent moment is shattered by a strangled cry somewhere ahead of us in the distance, causing the horses to become restless. I bring my horse around to the front near Peter and King Lune, cutting off their path forward as another cry breaks the still air.

"We've travelled too far northwest. We need to turn back immediately," I say, struggling to get my horse to stand still.

But a third strangled cry echoes somewhere behind us now.

"I'm not so sure that's an option anymore," Finnick gravely says, dropping down from his horse.  
>"How did I not see how far we've travelled?" I ask aloud, my feet hitting the soft ground next to Peter as he too dismounts his horse.<br>"We're not as far north as I think we are? Are we?" Peter furrows his brow, glancing around at the dismal wood.  
>"What could possibly be this far north?" King Lune jokes, staggering as his feet hit the ground.<p>

That's when a sharp cry, vastly different from the others, interrupts our conversation. Finnick dashes forward into the thick, hurdling himself toward the sound of the feminine cry.

"Finnick, no!"

But he's already gone, the cry now subsided, creating an eerie silence around us. Peter warily unsheathes his sword, preparing for the worst. But even I know that we're probably already surrounded. A distinct whoosh of air reaches my ears and I tackle Peter to the ground, an arrow narrowly missing his head.

"DROP!" I shout to King Lune as another arrow comes hurling our way.

The horses whinny and neigh, the soldiers dropping like flies behind us as they don't duck in time. Peter slides me off his body, putting up his shield as an extra defense.

"Why are they attacking!" he yells above the chaos.  
>"They must've been watching us since Caurus to see if we would turn back! We're not supposed to be here!" I answer, pulling out my own bow and returning fire.<p>

"ENOUGH!"

The voice is booming and stops the arrows from both sides immediately. Peter, King Lune, and I are the only ones that remain as all the other soldiers were taken out by the skilled arrows of our assailants. From the ground I see a pair of dark-brown leather boots step toward us.

"Get up," the deep voice orders and the three of us stand, "Throw down your weapons or I kill him."

We are met by quite an interesting creature. He's inherently human but much, _much_ taller with longer and stronger limbs, which are wrapped around Finnick, a dagger placed tightly to his throat. The creature's skin has a grey tone to it and holds no kind of imperfection similar to his silver hair that cascades over his dark, round eyes. The muscles in his chest are slightly exposed for all to see and I can't help but become simply enraptured in how strikingly handsome this creature is. I suddenly find myself completely at his mercy, willing to do anything and everything that comes out of his mouth and I throw away my weapons not once taking my eyes from him.

"Evi, what are you doing?" Peter hisses, not willing to put down his only defense.

I don't answer Peter, though. This is the first Boreade I've met and I can't say I'm disappointed.

"She won't hear you, Peter, he's got her under his spell," Finnick says, straining against the cool blade in his neck.

Peter's grip tightens on his sword and he glowers at the Boreade, "Let them go. We have your warning and we promise we won't return."

"You must be the new king."

The Boreade's voice is condescending and only angers Peter more.

"Your kind have promised us this before and we told you the consequences if you broke it."  
>"It was a mistake! We didn't mean to stumble into your country. You've killed most of my party and I'm willing to let that slide if you let my commanders go," Peter tries to negotiate, but is met with a hearty laugh from his adversary.<p>

"You are surrounded, king. You think it wise to threaten me?" he sneers.

The Boreade smirks in silence, glancing between Peter and me when his eyes finally lock onto mine and a shiver inches down my spine. My heart wells with longing and I am lost in his mercuric eyes.

"What is your name, fair lady?" he speaks to me, his voice warm and smooth, completely unlike the way he addressed Peter.  
>"Evelyn Wood," I dutifully answer, not once taking my eyes off him even when he frowns seemingly going into deep thought.<p>

None of us even hear the surrounding perpetrators come up behind us. The Boreade in front us simply gives a curt nod and we are all suddenly disarmed and locked in cuffs.

"You will come with us," he nods turning his back to the sound of Peter's protests.

Another tall and handsome Boreade hooks his fingers around my arm, leading me up to the front of the pack by the one who spoke to us. Not that I'm really complaining...

His metallic eyes rove over every inch of my body and I feel a slight blush tinge my cheeks. But when he looks away, all I want him to do is look at me again. I don't know what it is about this creature but he gets my mind going and I find him so irresistible. During the walk to...where ever we are going...I'm able to get a better look at him, particularly his odd outfit for a general.

He isn't even wearing armor. It's a silver, incredibly light fabric that shrouds the length of his large, muscular arms but dips into a large V on his chest, thus exposing the defined, rippling muscles of his chest. The fabric continues until about mid-thigh but then is synched at the waist with a plain black belt. His black trousers seem to be made of the same fabric and are just as billowy as the shirt, unlike mine and Finnick's snug clothing. His silver eyes flash down at me again, catching me looking at him and I shyly smile. Suddenly I realize I don't know his name and this upsets me. Not quite sure why, but it does.

"My name is Auster," he speaks answering my burning question but I only nod with another timid smile, one that he returns only with more confidence, "You are a very quiet one."

"Usually it's getting her to shut up that's the trick," I hear Finnick mumble behind me, suddenly reminding me that there were others around us.

That's when I notice the darkness closing in around us. Somehow in our walk I hadn't noticed the thickening of the woods, effectively blocking out much of the dismal sun. Now that I think about it, I don't even know how long we've been walking. All I'm concerned about is Auster. I don't want to leave his side.

Unexpectedly he stops, placing his hand on my shoulder to stop me as well.

I nearly died.

Auster nods once more to his soldiers and they all gather around us, slipping blindfolds over our eyes.

"For our own protection," he vaguely explains.

Hell if I care, as long as he stays around. For a little while longer (I'm not exactly sure _how_ long) we let our captors lead us farther and farther into the woods, a part of the world of Narnia _none_ of us has ever been in. I don't even know if Aslan's been this far north. Just when I think I can't bear the blindfold anymore, it's lifted off my eyes, revealing the most beautiful city I've ever seen. This must be Erato, the fabled woodland city of Borea. The city is intricately built in, around, and up in the towering trees of the forest. The canopy of the forest blocks out most light so everything has a blue, silver glow to it from the artificial light the Boreades make with their legendary magic. The whole city strikes me as something Tolkien would imagine, particularly Lothlorien from The Lord of the Rings.

Wow. Suddenly I feel like Frodo.

Auster leads us up a staircase into the trees as we pass by several whispering onlookers, all of them silver-haired and undeniably stunning. These creatures are beyond perfect, I feel so inferior to them all, especially Auster. Just when I think I can't feel any worse about myself, Auster leads us into a large throne chamber bringing us to meet the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen in my life.

She's calmly sitting in her throne, metallic eyes carefully roving over our foreign bodies. Her pin-straight, white hair cascades down the front of her pastel blue gown to the floor. When she stands, she moves with an ethereal quality that even Aslan doesn't have. I can't help myself when I abruptly drop to my knees in a bow. I feel like she deserves my respect.

"Thank you, Auster, you can leave them with me," her voice is haunting and sends chills down my spine.

Auster nods and leaves the room, taking his soldiers with him. As soon as the door shuts, it's like a switch flips in my mind and I slowly rise to my feet, feeling like I'm waking up from a deep sleep. Confusedly, I look all around me seeing an annoyed Finnick, a tight-lipped Peter, and an anxious King Lune. Everything seemed a little less...bright. Things don't seem to glow as much as before and I feel like I can finally think straight.

"What's going on?"  
>"Well, you see, we've been captured—"<br>"Shut up, Finnick, I _know_—"  
>"Hard to tell with the way you were taken with <em>Auster<em>," Peter bitterly taunts and I frown.

His gaze is smoldering for the moment our eyes connect and I'm forced to tear my eyes away from him. What the _hell_ happened?

"I'm afraid that's the effect Auster has on all female mortals," the woman's haunting voice floats around the room, "He's one of our oracles, a Boreade endowed with power they can't control."

This doesn't seem to appease Peter's mood but I slide in next to him anyway. Now that I'm not under Auster's "spell," the gravity of the situation falls heavily on my shoulders. You see, the Boreades have never had happy relations with foreign countries, a result of many neighboring countries trying to steal the Boreades powerful magic, Narnians being included. I don't entirely know why Narnians in the past have tried to obtain this magic but it's the reason the Boreades have threatened execution if they caught us in their country.

"What I meant was, why were we brought here?" I clarify, warily glancing at the embodiment of perfection sitting in front of me.  
>"You are," the woman calmly replies, the glimmers of a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.<br>"I don't understand," I slowly say, glancing for some kind of recognition in Finnick but he looks just as confused at me.  
>"<em>You<em>, girl, are the reason we brought you here. Though, I can't say the same for your companions," she waves her hand, three soldier's bursting into the room and whisking Peter, Finnick, and King Lune out of the room before I can protest.

My eyes narrow at the witch as she stands, sliding down the stairs as if she were floating on air all while that taunting little smirk remains on her face.

"Come," she holds out her hand, beckoning me to her.  
>"No," I defiantly stand my ground, earning a brief frown from her, "Not until you can guarantee my friends' safety."<p>

That smirk of hers grows and a slight panic tugs at my heart, "Of course."

I'm not convinced.

But she hasn't done anything thus far and all I can do is go with her as her beady eyes peer down at me. An eerie silence engulfs the room as she leads me into a corridor different from the one the boys were taken down. This one spirals down until it reaches the soft grass where it breaks off into a tunnel that leads even farther down beneath the earth. We take it.

"I am Queen Gwyn, ruler of Borea," she breaks the still silence with something I had already guessed.

The underground air is stagnant as compared to the cool air in the trees and I can barely stand it. I'm about to force us to stop when she does anyway, in front of some curling script on the wall.

"We Boreades have denoted the history of Narnia since its inception..." her long fingers glide over the script, the letters faintly glowing silver, "We made it our duty. Something I feel you can relate to, young Beckett."

My heart jumps into my throat and I sharply look at the Queen. I'll admit, she has my undivided attention now.

"Do you know how it was Jadis came to Narnia?"

I shook my head.

"_Humans_, by accident brought her here but not before she had already destroyed everything in her own world. _Everything_. Every creature that ever lived. _Gone_."  
>"What does thi—"<br>"She brought with her, her world's God," she cut me off, basically telling me not to interrupt again, and she runs her hand over the wall again, this time a figure manifesting.

I recognized him instantly.

"Arma, in some ways, can't stand up to your God Aslan but in others he is much stronger," Gwyn tells me, another figure forming on the wall and I'm forced to choke back a sob as I recognize Granddad, "After Jadis _stole_ the wand, our magic, from our people, Maxwell Beckett took full responsibility, indebting himself and Narnia to us until Jadis is vanquished."

I listen carefully to her, wondering exactly how I come into all of this.

"Beckett left before his debt is paid; leaving Jadis to do whatever she pleases in this world like she did in her own. She is powerful and ruthless. With Arma _and_ our magic on her side, it will be difficult to hold her off."  
>"You speak of her as if she's still alive. Jadis was killed nearly five years ago by Aslan," I tell her.<p>

Gwyn's unblinking eyes look down at me, "What witch do _you _know of who actually _died_?"

A frown crosses my face as I try to comprehend what she's telling me. I mean, I understand what she's saying but it can't possibly be true.

"Are you saying the White Witch is still _alive_?" I voice my doubt.  
>"I'm saying that a witch is cunning and <em>always<em> has ways around permanent death. She wouldn't be a true witch if she didn't," Gwyn implied.

So Jadis is neither dead nor alive but has the capability to return—

"The raids on our borders," I suddenly look up, "They know how to bring her back."  
>"So it seems," she nods, the inscriptions on the wall slowly fading.<br>"Why not tell us sooner? Why not _help_ us?" I rapidly ask, suddenly annoyed with her whole blasé attitude toward everything going on in Narnia.

"Narnia has never once come to our aid! Where was _Narnia_ when we were left to fight the witch! Where was _Narnia _when Telmar and Lymeria tried invading our country! It was _Narnia_ who tried stealing our magic, who banished Jadis into our wood where she got hold of our ancient magic!" she roars, forcing me against the wall.

My fingers long for the hold of my blades but I know they are somewhere in the possession of the Boreades.

"Narnia has given us no reason to send aid," her voice lowers in volume, returning to that breathy tone.  
>"Then why tell me any of this at all?" I slip away from the wall, distancing myself from the temperamental Queen, "Why not just kill us in the wood?"<p>

"Maxwell Beckett's debt has yet to be repaid. And you're Evelyn Beckett."


	18. And With it Pain

**Another chapter! To move the story along I decided that I'm going to cut out a few things from the next few chapters. Then once I finish this Part of the story, I'll post a different "story" that will be a collection of one-shots from the Golden Age.**

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><p>This whole legacy thing is really starting to annoy me. I mean, first the Order thing and now this debt with Borea? It's getting really old...<p>

"We will give you your weapons back when we have you out of our borders," Gwyn tells me as we stop outside their armory.

With a sigh, I nod, not really enjoying the fact that I don't have my weapons. Another Boreade comes out from the armory, this time with my bow and knives in his arms. He's not quite as striking as Auster with shorter silver hair, and softer features structuring his face, but I instantly take a liking to him.

"Notus, you and your men will escort Miss Beckett out of the city," Gwyn orders and I frown, for two reasons. For one: she keeps calling me Beckett, which is starting to get on my nerves and two: she thus far hasn't mention Peter and the others.

"What about my friends?" I fold my arms across my chest.

The Queen peers down at me again, letting silence pass between us as if she's contemplating something.

"Of course," that tricky little smirk graces her lips once more, "Notus, take her to the others."  
>"Yes, Your Grace," he nods.<p>

Something is off about this whole thing. I don't like the way she was looking at me and I don't like how this Notus hesitated before answering. Almost as if sensing my apprehension, Notus gently takes a hold of my arm and flashes me a reassuring smile.

I'm not reassured.

Hand gently but firmly clasped around my arm, Notus leads me back to ground level again. But when I finally see Peter, not even Notus' firm grip can keep me from running to him.

"Peter, oh my God. Peter!" I cry, lifting his limp head.

Peter, Finnick, and King Lune were all knocked out, chained up by their wrists above their heads to three robust trees and judging by the bruises and dirt marring their faces, they've been tortured.

"Peter, wake up. Look at me," I plead with his unconscious form, sweeping his long blonde hair out of his eyes but he's unresponsive.

White-hot anger takes hold of me and I wheel on the nearest Boreade to me, which happens to be Queen Gwyn. She might be a towering seven feet tall, but my rage is no match for her as I brutally shove her against a tall oak.

"You lying _bitch_!" I growl, forcing her to the ground, shoving my arm against her windpipe.

I'm not able to say much more as my arms are wrestled behind my back by two soldiers who were waiting in the shadows. Gwyn calmly stands massaging her throat, eyeing me up as I struggle against my captors' grasps.

"You promised me their safety!" I bellow, stomping on the in-step of one of the soldiers' feet allowing me to break free momentarily. In that brief moment I'm able to swing my fist around, colliding with the Queen's face.

I'll admit, I'm not the best diplomat and my anger often gets the best of me but this bitch hurt Peter. The soldiers restrain me again, dealing a heavy blow to my stomach and I double over, trying to catch my breath.

"Your friends trespassed in our country! They are _criminals_ that must be held accountable for their actions!" she roars, "Be thankful we're letting _you_ free."

"E-vi..."

Peter's voice came quiet and broken up, but I heard it nonetheless, ripping free from my captors once more to take his face between my hands. His blue eyes gaze upon my face but had trouble focusing.

"Let them go for God's sake!" I choke out, tasting my own salty tears in my mouth.  
>"S'alrigh' Evi, go. Tell Ed and Lu," Peter mumbles, clearly wrought with exhaustion.<p>

"Guards!" Gwyn's voice startles me.

"Go," Peter repeats and I can hear the soldiers coming up behind me.  
>"I'll come back," I assure him, furiously untying the cloak from around his neck, "I'll come back for you."<p>

Strong hands take hold of me just as I get the cloak off Peter's neck and I scream at the top of my lungs. How can I just leave him like this? How do I even know the Boreades won't just kill them? The soldiers, with their well-built and tall bodies, easily overtake me and under Notus' direction lead me out of the city with a blindfold over my eyes. My screams echo around me and are eventually drowned out by a few low rumbles of thunder. Only when we're out of this city do I stop screaming and that's only because I've shouted myself hoarse and completely lost my voice.

"Finally. The noisy twat finally shut her gob," the Boreade shoves me in the back, sending me onto my knees.

Flecks of mud splash on my face as I firmly hold Peter's cloak to my chest. The one behind me is the asshole of the group, calling me names, pushing me when I'm not moving fast enough. Real gentlemen he is...

"Enough, Gavan!" Notus pushes the rude soldier away from me, imposing his superiority, "Leave her be!"  
>"Why should I? You know what she and <em>her<em> kind have done to us!"  
>"She cannot be held accountable for her peoples' actions! She has done nothing to us," Notus' voice turns quieter, his long arms gently lifting me from the ground, "Go. You and Balion return to the city. I will take the girl."<p>

In fuming silence, the Boreade Gavan determinedly stares at his superior officer before abruptly turning the other way. Once he and the other one are gone, I can feel the air around me lighten. These creatures give off such strong emotional vibes; I can't believe I didn't see the Queen's treachery coming.

"Are you all right, Lady Evelyn?" Notus softly asks, brushing some dried leaves off my pants.  
>"F-fine," I whisper, wiping the mud off my face.<p>

He flashes me a small smile, holding his hand out for me to climb over the uprooted tree in our path. My eyes briefly eye up his hand before I nimbly leap over the tree myself. Notus lets out a smooth chuckle before stepping over the trunk with ease. The guy doesn't give off such a bad vibe, but I'm not about to wholly place my faith into him after what happened back at the city.

"So you're one of _those_ females," he muses to himself with a smile, "I meant strong and independent," he adds after seeing the fierce look I shot him.

We come to a quickly moving stream dotted with a few small stepping stones that I make quick work of as I cross. Notus isn't as graceful as he crosses with the stones being a bit too small for his feet and I smirk noting the imperfection in the seemingly perfect creatures.

"Women in Borea are required to dress as such unless they are sanctioned in the royal guard," he continues, catching up to me.  
>"I <em>am<em> a general," I say, but in my hoarse voice it only comes out as a whisper.  
>"Surely you don't mean to say the King of Narnia is permitted to wed the general of his army?" his eyes widen in surprise.<p>

I don't like where this conversation has turned so I sigh and continue walking. I'm sure Notus must've seen this with the way he's looking at me now. It's just so unfair, even in this country it's wrong for Peter and me to be together.

"Oh," Notus says and I can hear the sad tone in his voice, "I see."

Another rumble of thunder, this one much louder, disrupts our conversation and a brisk wind starts to kick up. I clutch Peter's cloak tighter to my body, his heavenly scent filling my nose. A sharp pain tugs at my heart as I realize I have to face all of Cair Paravel without Peter, King Lune _and_ Finnick. Ed, I know, will do all he can to help me get them back but what of everyone else? They all disapprove of me as it is...

Notus and I trek in the wood for a few more hours and I hardly recognize anything we pass, a fact I attribute to when I was under Auster's spell. For much of the walk, I'm silent only listening to what Notus has to say. He's not so bad for a Boreade and hasn't done anything to slight me. We soon come to a heavily trodden path in the woods, one that I _scarcely_ remember from the journey in and Notus pauses.

"This is as far as I can take you, Lady Evelyn," he hands me my weapons, "But before I do I just want to apologize...for everything. A great majority of my people believe in tradition and legacy which includes the harshness of the Narnians and particularly humans. Some us think that's complete rubbish. You can't _all_ be bad."

With a courteous bow he disappears back the way we came, the rain starting to hammer down and I'm left totally alone. In all probability I'm surrounded by Boreade soldiers, them watching my every move until I make it out of their country. I shudder with the thought, pressing on in the icy rain. However, as the rain thunders down harder and harder, it quickly becomes apparent that I won't be able to make much progress in this storm. Not to mention I'm almost _positive_ I hear footsteps behind me, rapidly making their approach.

I don't know _what_ kinds of creatures live here in Borea or if they're anything like the daunting size of the Boreades themselves. Fear resonates in my body and I quicken my pace, hearing the footsteps coming closer. In my haste, my foot snags on an overgrown root sending me forward face first into the mud. Wasting no time, I whip out my bow with an arrow strung, aiming into the direction of the footsteps. In what seems like hours, I hear my heartbeat pounding in my head and the sound of my breath rushing in and out of my lungs. I would have called out if my voice would have allowed it, but I'm left to wait in anxious silence as the bushes rustle, my pursuer emerging.

"Samson!" I croak as loudly as possible as I see the forlorn hunting dog, trotting over to me.

The golden animal's spirit is instantly lifted upon seeing a friendly face and happily bounds over to me wagging his long tail. I dutifully rub the big dog's hips, laughing as he licks the mud off my face. A twig snaps somewhere in the distance and Samson is immediately guarded, his lips curling back into a snarl. That must be the Boreades he senses.

Hanging my bow over my shoulders, I whistle for him so we can get the hell out of this torrential rain. We run for another couple minutes until we come upon a small cave, which Samson checks out before I crawl my way in. The quarters are tight and a pungent odor stains the cave but at least it's dry and we find it at just the right time. Outside the cave the rain comes down in sharp drops, egged on by the fierce and raging wind. We never get storms like this South in Narnia.

My teeth chatter against each other from shivering and I pull out Peter's cloak, wrapping the massive, dry fabric around my body. Things really can't get much worse. I'm alone, I'm lost, Peter is being held captive most likely being tortured, I'm being followed by sinister foreign soldiers, and I can't do _anything_ about it until this God forsaken storm lets out...

The storm.

I suddenly sit up, Samson falling off my lap.

The storm!

If _I_ can't travel in it then certainly the soldiers can't either. I have my weapons, I have Samson who can smell out the soldiers and the city, I know how to get back, I know where they're being held.

I hear the foul tempest outside the cave.

How do we get back out of the city? I know where they're keeping the rest of the weapons and I _think_ I know where the stables are, Queen Gwyn took me by them on our way to where they were being held.

Peter.

I _have_ to go back. If I don't, there's no guarantee they'll still be alive by the time I get Edmund and Lucy. That's a good three days from now. I _have_ to go.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" I ask the obedient dog sitting patiently at my feet.

His tail furiously wags and he's suddenly on his feet. Samson may just be a _dog_ but he's smarter than animals back home and I know he _knows_ my plan.

"Let's go get our boys back," I firmly tie Peter's cloak around my shoulders, putting up the hood as I barrel back out into the storm, following Samson's lead back to the city.

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><p>By the time Samson and I reach the city limits, the storm had subsided but we are both soaked and chilled to the bone. I know going out into the storm is stupid with the very real threat of catching pneumonia or hypothermia and I'm sure I'll get an earful from Finnick when this is all said and done.<p>

But I don't care.

I have to get Peter back.

He _loves_ me.

_He's in love with you, Evi_

Pushing the horrendous cold to the back of my mind, I slink my way into the city sticking to the shadows whenever possible. Just as I suspected, the city is all but deserted from the passing storm, making my progress through its trees rather easy. The armory is my first stop and I pause at the foot of the stairs, looking out for Gwyn or her soldiers.

"Keep a look out for me," I whisper to Samson, swiftly vaulting up the stairs that dizzily wrap around the wide girth of the trees.

Back pressed against the door, I can hear the methodic thumping of a sentry's footsteps inside the armory. Samson at the bottom of the tree hasn't noticed any commotion so I carefully string an arrow, waiting for the footsteps to withdraw from my side of the room. With the muffled thuds, I swiftly swing open the door and fire an arrow into the chest of the sentry. Another guard sees the arrow, charging at me with his sword drawn. His tall form is no match for my speed as I duck under his legs, spinning and firing another arrow.

Rhindon and Peter's shield are easy to spot and Finnick's weapons are there too. King Lune had lost his when we were overtaken. Hastily I belt Rhindon around my waist and slip the shield onto my back while carrying Finnick's sword. It's quite a load and I stagger a moment as I try to walk but I quickly regain my balance and hurl down the stairs to Samson.

The place where they are being held is across the Borean Great River which roughly splits the city in half and with the rain being light, more soldiers have returned to their posts. Samson nudges my leg, disrupting my thoughts as he bares his teeth off to the left, voices echoing our way. We duck behind an oversized tree stump, carefully watching as they pass.

Clearly, we weren't going to be able to cut through the city; we'd have to circle around the unfamiliar outskirts. Collecting Peter's cloak in my hands, I bring it to Samson's nose letting him learn Peter's scent.

"Samson, find Peter," I whisper as the dog eagerly sniffs the soft fabric.

The guards finally pass and Samson darts out into the woods with me hot on his tail. Samson, being the excellent hunting dog he is, knows to be quiet and avoid commotion as he weaves his way in at out of the grey trees. Eventually we find our way, settling ourselves in the brush nearest Finnick. My heart jumps in my throat, seeing all three men in worse shape than they were before, faces black and blue, smeared with dirt and blood. Finnick has an ugly cut on his neck from where the sword was pressed in his neck and Peter's arm is at a funny angle chained above his head.

I'm met once more with little resistance as only three guards stand watch and all it takes is three more sudden arrows. Samson leaps from the brush, retrieving the keys from one of the guards. As I'm working at the cuffs around Finnick's wrists he lets out a groan and his eyes slowly flutter open.

"Evi?" he moans, scrunching his face as his senses all come back to him at once.  
>"Shh," I hiss, cracking the lock open, and catching Finnick as he tumbles forward.<p>

I stand him up straight quickly checking over his face and especially the cut on his neck.

"Are you ok?" I whisper, handing him his sword.  
>"Better, now that you're here," he flashes me a smirk despite the situation at hand.<br>"Help King Lune," I say a bit louder, tossing him one of the keys on the ring as I hurry over to Peter.  
>"What's wrong with your voice?" he frowns, working at King Lune's irons.<p>

I ignore him, focusing all my attention on Peter. My poor Peter. Up close he looks in much worse shape. One eye swollen shut, shoulder clearly dislocated, dried blood staining his neck and face and he looks like he fought back judging by the scrapes on his hands and knees. Unlike Finnick, Peter doesn't wake when I jiggle the lock free around his wrists and worry spreads through my body.

"Stop right there, girl."

I would recognize that glorious, deep voice anywhere. A lump swells in my throat as Finnick and King Lune watch me turn to face the enchanting Auster. I know if I turn to look at him his spell would overtake me, but I can't help myself. The instant I see his sharp handsome features, I'm overcome by that same dreamy, peaceful state unable to look away.

"You don't want to do this," he soothes, long limbs stepping forward, "You want to do what I say."

He's just so amazingly stunning and I want to please him. He walks all the way to me and I nearly faint, feeling him so close to me. But then I feel a soft, warm hand reaching for my wrist from the ground.

"E-Evi," the hand encircles mine and I hear Peter's voice.

_He's in love with you, Evi_

Suddenly it's not Auster's face I see in front of me, but Peter's crystal-blue eyes. And that's all I need to shake the crafty spell. Using what strength I have left, I ram Auster into the tree that once held King Lune. With Finnick's help, we yank down the chain and clamp them over his wrists, the metal cutting into his skin. He wickedly sneers at me before Finnick brutally punches him in the face, knocking him out cold.

"Evi," Peter wheezes and I drop down to the ground next to him.  
>"I told you I'd come back for you," I weakly smile at him, running my fingertips down the side of his face.<p>

Peter is very weak, hardly able to stand up on his own but I'm there for him to lean on. A wailing sort of alarm pierces the still air and Finnick sharply looks at me.

"Now what?" he barks.  
>"This way," I utter, leading the way with Peter in tow.<p>

The stables aren't far from where we are and we make it there before the guards do...or so I think. The doors slams open, an arrow pointed straight at my face. Behind the arrow, though, stands Notus and he unexpectedly points the arrow out behind me.

"Quickly, your horses are inside," he says, keeping an eye out for his guards.

There are only three, however, since King Lune's horse was taken out the previous day, not that it matters much since Peter probably can't ride on his own anyway. King Lune sluggishly pulls himself onto one with Samson whining at his feet.

"Finnick take Samson," I order, helping Peter up onto mine.

The dog jumps into Finnick's arms, the man swinging up onto his horse. Once Peter is firmly in the saddle, I climb up in front of him, taking hold of the reigns.

"Hold on to me, Peter," I tell him, feeling his arms snuggly wrap around my waist.

"Follow the river to the mountains. After the storm the Royal Guard won't dare follow its raging waters and it'll lead to you to your Narnian borders," Notus tells me with a smile.  
>"What about you?" I wonder, knowing Gwyn won't take his treason well.<br>"Don't worry about me. I'll just say you hit me," he winks.  
>"Thank you, Notus," I smile before spurring my horse out into the woods, finally heading back home.<p> 


	19. Dazed and Confused

**I mention this at the end of the chapter as well but I'm writing myself into a corner. I need some ideas to get through the Golden Age. I've got future chapters planned out but I just need something to get me there.**

**Anyway, new update!**

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><p>We reach Caurus Mountain outpost just after nightfall, Peter and King Lune immediately being taken in for medical attention while a raven is sent out to Cair Paravel. Finnick and I have to suffer through our exhaustion for just a bit longer as we post extra soldiers on the borders just in case Queen Gwyn decides to send out her Guard. But with no such attempt, Finnick and I are able to get looked over by the on-site healer. Aside than the laryngitis, I'm told I am a hypothermic and I've been ordered to bed rest, wrapped in several blankets.<p>

Honestly, I don't feel all that terrible. I think the bed rest is just a recommended thing. At least that's what I tell myself as I get up to go check on Finnick. I find him back out on the watch tower, all clean and bandaged up. Snuggly wrapping the blanket around me, I walk over to the railing next to him.

"_You_ should be resting," he frowns down at me.  
>"I feel fine, Fin," I roll my eyes.<br>"You look and sound like death, Evi. And what were you thinking? Going out in that storm? Are you _mad_? I thought we talked about reckless actions," he chides, just like I thought he would.

"Well if you want, I can take you back to Erato since that's where you'd still be if I hadn't come back for you," I smirk.  
>"I see your point," he nods, hand drifting to the small gash on his neck.<p>

"How's your neck, let me see," I turn his head toward me, my fingers grazing the small scratch.  
>"Bloody hell, your hands are ice!' he shrinks away but I bring him back.<br>"You're such a baby," I roll my eyes again, "Doesn't seem too bad."  
>"It hurts worse than it looks," he exaggerates, "Maybe a kiss would make it feel better?"<p>

With a heavy sigh, I lean forward and briefly press my lips against his neck.

"Better?" I furrow my brow.  
>"Much," he smirks, "Now how 'bout one for this busted lip?"<p>

He laughs, ducking my sluggish blow, and encircles his arms around my shoulders. Under normal circumstances, I would take his arms off me but the warmth his body gives mine is just too good to ignore. To be honest, I really don't mind being this close to Finnick. I think it mostly has to do with the fact that I'm _allowed_ to be like this with him. Peter's tried to bundle me up in his arms but I just get too nervous and back away.

"How's King Lune?" I tip my head back, looking up at him from a funny angle.  
>"A few bumps and bruises, nothing serious. He's quiet, though. Must've finally run out of things to say," he cracks a joke, one that I think is a bit too insensitive.<p>

"That's not funny," I shake my head.  
>"It's a little funny."<p>

I roll my eyes, tightening the blanket around my neck as a cool breeze sneaks its way up from the bottom.

"I'll tell you, though, that man is ready to take you home with him," Finnick says, resting his head on top of mine.  
>"Why's that?"<br>"You got him back here. Back to see his son and his wife. They don't have to go on without him because of you."

Something in that comment puts a frown on my face. I know I should feel good about what he said but I can't help but feel a large pit in my stomach. And I know what it is that's bothering me and I pull away from Finnick, heavily leaning against the rail.

"I know that look," Finnick comments.  
>"No you don't," I say, turning my head away from him.<br>"Yes I do. King Lune's wife and son...you're thinking about family."

It irks me that he knows me so well. No matter how much I dislike Finnick, I've never been able to see myself without a family. Having kids has just been one of those things that I dream about doing sometime in the future. Maybe it's because I just haven't been faced with the choice yet, but I still picture myself with a little boy or a little girl in my arms.

"I know how important it is to you, Evi, because you never had any siblings or loving parents," his warm hand slides over mine, "You could give this a chance. And I understand that I've done some things—"

"Do you, Finnick?" I round on him, my face hot with frustration, "Because I don't think you do. Because of _you_ I'm stuck with this dilemma, because of _you_ I can't even consider having a normal relationship with others guys, because of _you_ I can't be with Peter. Don't ever think I'm going to forget that," I rip my hand from underneath his, storming back inside.

This is how things have been going for me and Finnick. One minute I'll be enjoying his company and the next I'm reminded of his betrayal. Finnick is sincere and really means it when he says stuff like that to me, I know he is. But what he did...the way he just _stood_ there when I was forced in the Order. That pain is just _so_ rooted in my memory I really don't know if I'll ever forget it.

I wasn't planning on going to see Peter. Somehow, though, I end up in his room quietly sitting next to his bed while he sleeps. The swelling around his eye has gone down quite a bit much to the credit of the talented healers but his right arm is now hanging limp in a sling and many small cuts still mar his face. Up until now, I haven't realized how scarily close I came to losing him.

"I know I'm attractive, Evi, but must you _stare_?" he teases in a quiet voice while his eyes remain closed.  
>"Arrogance isn't a good color for you," I smile at him as his eyes open.<br>"I know. I was only trying to get a smile out of you," he smiles back, sitting himself upright.

A deep sigh passes my lips as a calming silence envelops the room, each of us simply gazing at the other. It's times like these that make it so hard to be around him, when all I want to do it jump in his arms, nuzzle my face in his chest, feel his lips against mine—

"What's wrong, Evi?" he asks, a frown twisting his handsome face.|  
>"Finnick," I merely reply with a shrug of my shoulders, "And stuff."<br>"And stuff?" he repeats with an amused smile, "Such as?"

Another sigh. I can already feel the tears burning behind my eyes, partially because I'm trying to restrain myself and partially because I keep thinking about how I almost lost him. Peter's smile slowly fades, sensing just how upset I really am. I swallow hard, my gaze dropping to the floor as I fight off the swelling emotion.

"Evi, if you're blaming yourself for what happened, don't. You got us all safely back. I'm fine, you're fine—"  
>"No I'm <em>not<em> fine, Peter," I shake my head.

Peter knows I'm keeping my thoughts to myself, I can see it on his face. And just when I think he's going to let it go he says, "Tell me."

It's an unspoken rule we have between us that we never say anything regarding our feelings for each other. It was just a precaution we took so that nothing ever escalated but he just broke it. He knows what's bothering me and he asked anyway.

But I'm not mad at him.

I _want _to tell him all I'm feeling. He almost _died_, almost left me here alone. I don't think anything is going to stop me now.

"I..." the words get caught in my throat and I wipe away the brimming puddles of water in my eyes.

"Go on," he gently presses.

Swallowing another lump in my throat, my already strained voice becomes even tighter as I say, "I almost lost you."

"You didn't, though. I'm right here, safe with you," he reminds me.

And he's right. He's right here with me, doing everything he can to make _me_ feel better when he's the one who was tortured. He's here, within an arm's reach of me where all I'd have to do is stand and lean forward to be in his arms...

"You know how I shook Auster's spell?" I boldly ask, knowing that he doesn't.  
>"Not really," he shakes his head.<p>

I don't know what it is that possesses me to say what comes next. I think it might be the hypothermia that has me all confused because normally I would never elaborate on something like this for fear of what it insinuates.

"I was so ready to go with him, let him take me away from you. It didn't even matter to me that you were unconscious and bloody. And there I was, just about to walk away when I heard your voice. It was so quiet I don't even know if anyone else heard it...But _I _did. It was so clear and distinct. And then when I felt your hand on mine the _only_ thing I could see were your beautiful blue eyes," I reach forward, brushing my hand over his forehead, smiling at the same blue eyes that are now intently focused on me.

Drawing back, the tears still blaze down my cheeks and I surprise Peter when I continue in a shaky and teary voice, "The way you make me feel...was so present in my mind that Auster's spell had no hold over me. The single greatest thing I wanted in that moment was you, Peter."

He expects to me to walk away now. I know he does. A large part of me wants to, a voice telling me to just walk away before I do something I'll regret. This is what causes more tears to flood to my eyes because I _know_ I'm not going anywhere.

"Isn't this when you run away," Peter says in a somewhat strained and bitter tone.  
>"No," I shake my head, swallowing hard, "Not this time."<p>

Before he even knows what's going on, I'm already in his arms, crying into his chest. It's second nature to him as his arms circle tightly around my body, holding me closer to him than I've been for years. Almost daring the code to tear us apart, I nestle my face in his bare neck, wallowing in the warm sensation his body brings me. Peter's face brushes mine, his nose and his lips burning a fiery trail across my cheek, down to my neck, and back up to my ear where I feel his lips run over the soft cartilage. I think he's about to say something when his lips, just barely hovering above my skin, blaze a path upward where they press firmly to the corners of my eyes, kissing away the tears.

When his lips move down again, this time floating just above my own, a deep shiver cascades down my body and I _know _it's not from the hypothermia. I can _feel_ the heat radiating from Peter's lips to mine...but they never connect. My eyes flutter open, meeting Peter's, just a breath's distance away and they're brimming with tears. His hand sweeps over my face, tucking the hair behind my ear, a move characteristic of him.

"You should go," he chokes.

My breath catches in my throat and my chest tightens. Peter has _never_ pushed me away. It's always been me. But not this time. This time _he_ can't bare it.

* * *

><p>"You were a wreck!" Ed laughs despite the fact I was splashing water all over him.<br>"Fancy a little brandy, Ed?" I retort, screaming as he tackles me into the warm water.

Our return to Cair Paravel was a little more than emotional. It started with King Lune being reunited with his Queen Emlen and son Corin and from there it just escalated to where I broke down in a fit of tears. I couldn't help it. I was just happy. Afterward, though, Edmund and I went down to the beach to watch the sunset. I hadn't been able to bring myself to tell Edmund what happened with Peter. I was afraid that it would somehow break the code. But he knew that something was on my mind, just like he always does, and somehow, and I don't know how, we got into a splashing fight resulting in our current wrestling match in the surf.

"Edmund! Evi!"

For the moment, Ed stops trying to throw me into the water as we sit up to see Lucy running down the beach.

"What is it, Lu?" Ed distractedly calls back and I take this chance to yank his arm and dunk him under the waves. Laughing like mad, I furiously wade back to shore to avoid being dragged back under.

Edmund follows, a perturbed look on his face from being beaten.

"I _will_ get you back," he points a finger at me.  
>"Of course, your majesty," I bow, smiling as Lucy runs up.<br>"Would you two knock it off! _Aslan_ is here!" she raves, dashing back up the stairs to the castle. Ed and I exchange the same excited look before tearing off after her.

It's been almost a whole _year_ since we've seen Aslan. His furry face will sure be a sight for sore eyes, not to mention about a thousand different questions are running through my mind.

Edmund, Lucy, and I can't contain our enthusiasm as we sprint through the sleek white halls of Cair Paravel to the Grand Hall, Ed and I slipping from our own salty puddles. Unfortunately this gives Ed the brilliant idea to push me across our puddles, my body slamming hard into another, sending us crashing into the ground in a large heap.

"I warned you, Evi!" Ed mischievously laughs, garnering a frown from Lucy.

Rubbing the back of my head, I laugh while pushing Finnick's legs off of me since _he_ was the one I slammed into.

"What the devil is going on? Why are you all wet?" he groans, helping me off the floor.  
>"It's Aslan!" I beam, taking his hand in mine, leading the way.<p>

When we reach the Grand Hall, we see a whole host of people from Archenland and Narnia alike, huddled around the Great Lion, his golden eyes sparkling as we burst through the crowd, tackling him over. Peter and Susan soon arrive and join our monstrous hug, all of us receiving some strange looks from the Archenlanders at our highly informal greeting.

At Susan's request an impromptu celebration is organized in Aslan's honor, the night taking a positive turn. Not even _Finnick_ can keep me from enjoying Aslan's return as we merrily dine with the Great Lion. There _is_ dancing after, but the four of us who had returned that day from Borea retire to bed for the evening.

"Did you _see_ King Lune's face when he saw Aslan? Priceless!" I comment, making Peter and Finnick laugh on either side of me.  
>"And the way the Archenlanders looked at us when we tackled him," Finnick adds.<br>"They must've thought we had all gone mad," Peter chuckles.

We stop as we reach Peter's chamber first in the East Wing, Finnick bidding a brief goodnight with a bow. Peter and I only nod to each other before he disappears into his room. We haven't really spoken to each other since yesterday as things were slightly awkward between us. Eventually it would pass but for now I'm left with a sinking feeling in my gut.

"I for one cannot _wait_ to sleep in my own bed tonight," Finnick yawns as we continue on down the corridor.  
>"I know, I could just pass out in the hallway. I'm so tired," I stretch my arms above my head.<p>

"Hey, uh, Evi? What did the Queen tell you, back in Erato?" Finnick tentatively asks me in front of my door.

That's odd for him. He's never shy. He's always been direct and forward with me.

"She mentioned some stuff about the White Witch," I vaguely say, still not sure what to do with the information I was told. For all I know, Gwyn made up the entire thing.  
>"Like what?" he prods.<br>"Not much. I don't even know if she was telling the truth. Why? What's got you so interested all of sudden?" I ask back.  
>"Nothing. Don't worry about it. I'll see you in the morning," his lips press against my cheek and he walks down to his own room without another word.<p>

That was weird, even for Finnick. How am I supposed to take that? Does he know something I don't? But I'm not able to answer myself as I find Aslan patiently waiting for me inside my room.

"You've had a troubling week, dear one," he smiles as I close the door behind me.  
>"You can say that again," I reply, making him chuckle and we step out to the balcony.<p>

For a little while, we gaze out thundering waves of the ocean listening to the various sounds of a Narnian nightfall.

"I sense you have a lot on your mind, Evelyn," he disrupts the peace.  
>"Aslan, how can Arma have power that you don't? How can he be a god in Narnia while you are here?" I ask, getting right to the point.<p>

Aslan sighs next to me and I get the feeling he's going to tell me something I'm not going to like.

"There are many worlds in the universe, Evelyn. Some of them have their own god, while some of them share. For instance, in Narnia I am a lion but on Earth I'm known by many names but all are still me. It's in that sense that world's share. On rare occasions, an entire race of beings may be transplanted into another world, unintentionally bringing their world's god. This is what happened to Jadis and her god Arma. It happened very early on in Narnia's creation so that his magic, as well as my own, was rooted in Narnia's core. This is the deep magic."

"So...he's just as much a part of Narnia as you are?" I sadly ask.

The lion solemnly nods, knowing better than anyone the situation Peter and I are in. If it had been up to Aslan, Peter and I would be together by now.

"Unlike the antithetical nature of Tash, I cannot cancel out the power of Arma. It's part of the reason why Jadis had reign over Narnia for so long," he continues.

"Queen Gwyn suggested that Jadis isn't really gone, that there are ways of bringing her back. Is that because of Arma?"

Aslan's face grows very grave at this question and it somewhat frightens me.

"Jadis has garnered a power I not yet understand. She seems to have drawn magic from many different places, combining it in her own way. What Queen Gwyn has told you is very much true but there is no way to know how or when the White Witch has planned her return."

What.

_Aslan_ doesn't know?

"What do we do then?" my voice gives away my sudden alarm.

"Keep a sharp eye out. I doubt we have seen the last of Jadis."

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><p><strong>Meh, personally I think this chapter is pretty crap-happy. I'm getting frustrated because I can feel myself getting writer's block. Is there anything you guys would really like to see? I could use the inspiration...<strong>

**Please PM me or review with anything you guys think would be interesting! I will give full credit where it's deserved of course.**


	20. Hands All Over

**Milestone chapter! And thanks in part to princess emma of narnia, my muse has been good to me and inspired me to write this. The chapter I had written before this was worthy of a milestone but I feel like you'll enjoy this one just as much. **

**"M" rating comes into play with this one as there is sex, not graphic but still sex. In the grand scheme of things this chapter isn't all that important so you can skip over it if you want. **

* * *

><p>"You're barking!" I struggle to keep up with Peter's determined pace through the daunting corridors of Cair Paravel.<p>

"Finnick, tell him," I plead with my second, his long strides matching Peter's ahead of me.

Edmund went ahead to escort King Lune and his court from Anvard home while the rest of us discussed what Queen Gwyn told me about the White Witch. Unfortunately, those deliberations were interrupted with a raven, saying Edmund had been kidnapped. Shortly after that, another one followed:

_The traitor's blood belongs to none  
><em>_Save for the one who seeks a Son._

No one knew what to make of it. Peter had an entire host of historians scouring the royal library for anything relating to Jadis, Charn, or Arma. It wasn't until dark that someone—Lucy—found something about the deep magic and Arma's tie to it. No matter how sorry and how long ago it happened, Edmund was still a traitor in the eyes of Arma and his sacrifice would restore power to the witch, her spirit effectively taking control of Edmund's body.

Arma is _nothing_ like Aslan. He's a cruel and capricious God, only showing up when it serves to suffice him. More often than not, it's to remind me of my oath. One thing I learned was that we don't—and I mean _never_—go to him, he must _always_ come to you. The God is quick to anger and does not like to be bothered, known to respond violently if provoked.

And that's exactly what Peter intends to do.

"Finnick!" I say more sharply at his silence, jogging now to keep pace.  
>"I happen to agree with him," he promptly responds.<p>

"Idiots! Both of you!"

Peter ignores my rant, strapping on his last few plates of armor, favoring his healing shoulder. His face is hard and his jaw set, a fierce determination flickering boldly in his cerulean eyes. I finally draw the line, dashing ahead of Peter only to roughly force him against the stone wall. My fingertips press deeply into the cold metal of his vambraces, my eyes seeking reason within his.

"Arma will rip you to shreds," I darkly say, halting Finnick with a stone-cold glare.

Peter's eyes finally drop down to mine and I see his face soften but only some.

"I will not leave Edmund again," he quietly speaks through his teeth.  
>"You don't have to," I loosen my fingers around his arms, "But what's going to happen if we lose you too?"<p>

The tone of my voice betrays my true feelings and I step back from Peter, "You go after him half-assed...you're only doing the witch a favor."

The separation did not go unnoticed to Peter and his face is once more stony in expression.

"What do you suggest I do then?" he challenges.  
>"Go comfort Lucy and Susan. Finnick and I will go to Raven's Rock."<p>

"We will?" Finnick sharply hisses.  
>"Were you not about go with <em>him<em>?" I harshly remind him and he settles back with a grumble.

Peter doesn't like this. I can tell by the way his tongue is firmly pressed to the inside of his cheek and the severe glare he's shooting my way. I don't blame him, though. I can't even _begin_ to imagine what he's feeling right now.

"Ridiculous," he mutters, angrily tearing off his pauldrons as he furiously turns on his heel.

"Come on," I urge Finnick, breaking off into a run to the stables. Now that I had _finally_ prevented Peter from doing something rash, we have little time to spare.

Raven's Rock. The second highest peak in the southern mountains but by far the most treacherous with cliffs so steep and slick, it's practically a suicide mission to try and reach its summit. Sticking out like a sore thumb, its mountains are obsidian rock enveloped in blankets of ice and snow the result of a never-ending blizzard that ravages its elevations. Arma has a cruel sense of humor.

"Maybe...he'll just come down to us?" Finnick lamely hopes, eyes turned to the high distance we have to climb.

I snort, dropping down from my horse. There's no love lost between me and the self-proclaimed god of Narnia. He's yet to make anything easy for me and I highly doubt he's going to start now.

Progress up the mountain is painstakingly slow, much to my own fault. The snow banks we have to wade through swallow me up even after Finnick has cleared me a path. The rocks are sharp, our hands our raw, and we didn't nearly pack enough warm clothes for this hike. But hours later, we reach the top; no time at all to stop and dwell on our ailments as we enter the vast cavern lit only by a few braziers on the glib walls.

"Do we knock or— Evi!" he shouts after seeing me take a dagger to my hand.

Arma is keen on sacrificial blood.

Ignoring Finnick's incessant rambling, I stride to the center of the cavern, a pool of my own blood in the palm of my hand. I let the crimson liquid drip onto the center dais, knowing I achieve what I set out to do when a brisk wind terrorizes the cave with Arma's approach. I shove my dagger back into its sheath as the leering, unsettling form of Arma manifests before me, his beady black eyes already leering at me.

"General Wood. Can't say I'm surprised to see you," he jests, and I impassively return his sneer.  
>"Then you know why we're here."<br>"Maybe. I seem to have heard one of the Kings has gone missing...tsk, tsk, tsk. Shirking your duties, Evelyn?" he waves a condescending finger at me.

It takes all the self-restraint in me not run the son of a bitch through with my blades. Arma's smirk grows as that thought runs through my head.

"We found this note.'The traitor's blood belongs to none, save the one who seeks a Son.' It pertains to you, yes?" Finnick interjects, reading off the strip of parchment left in Edmund's stead.

For a moment, a shadow darkens over Arma's face as he realizes we know more than he originally thought. I suppress a smirk.

"I was duped by the Great Lion and never received my blood," he bitterly reveals but then his cruel smirk returns, "The witch offered to satiate my appetite and in return I give her power."

"Aslan determined that debt to be paid," I bark, "His blood no longer belongs to the witch and you cannot supersede the judgment that has already been passed."

If Aslan can't overrule Arma, then the opposite must also be true.

An eerie spark stirs in his cold eyes, igniting a flame inside Arma. Even Finnick sees it and knows where all of Arma's anger is directed.

"They will try," his voice is low, wrought with suppressed rage, "Your King is in the Northern Marsh."

"Come on, Evi," Finnick tries pulling me away.

"NO!" Arma's voice booms, "No. She stays with me."

I try to maintain a calm exterior, despite my heart racing and pounding against my ribs and my mind is left wondering what's going to happen to me.

"Go, Finnick," I say trying to keep my voice from trembling, "Send a raven and get Edmund."

Concern reads all over his face as he makes his way out of the cavern, leaving me alone with the wrathful god. I heave a great sigh, turning to face the god whose smirk holds something dark and sinister behind it. But I can't help but sardonically think, what more can he possibly take from me?

* * *

><p>Breath shallow, chest burning, I make my way through Cair Paravel in complete solitude. I can feel my legs ready to give out any second, the burns on the inside of my thighs searing with pain. Tears are a thing of the past as I'm left with sheer unabashed rage left inside me as I wonder how Aslan could ever let something like Arma exist and do the things he did. As quickly as that anger came, it's gone as I finally collapse to the ground unable to continue. I feel as if I'll never walk again with the unbearable sensation coursing through my legs.<p>

The only satisfaction I have is knowing that it was _me _that bore Arma's punishment and not Peter.

Stars swim before my eyes; my vision goes out of focus as I hear the soft pitter-patter of footsteps from down the hall. I feel my head fall back against the wall but the pain it causes is numbed, much like all my other senses as I feel like I'm being doused in a thick fog. Muffled shouts, frantic voices, blurred faces, and soon I feel my body being lifted from the ground with a painful protest from my legs. I think I may have gasped in pain but I'm not entirely sure. Then I'm shrouded in a sea of warmth and comfort and despite the fact that I can't see or hear, I know I'm in Peter's arms. But even his ardent whispers to stay awake aren't able to stop me from slipping into unconsciousness.

With gripping horror, I find myself back at Raven's Rock, restrained by chains, my back pressing painfully into the cool, jagged rocks. Body broken and battered, having just gone through another wave of meticulous torture.

But that's not the worst part.

There's someone else in the room with me, chained against the wall in a similar fashion. Up until this point, I haven't allowed Arma the satisfaction of hearing me cry but when I see him step aside, revealing Peter's bruised form, I can't help the strangled sob that echoes from my throat.

The rusted metal cuts into my wrists as I fruitlessly struggle against my restraints, trying desperately to get across the room to Peter. The stabbing pain and warm trickle of blood down my arms not even enough to stop my vain action.

"Peter," I sob, seeing Arma hide him from my view once more.

My stomach turns over in nausea at the desperate yells of pain coming from Peter's mouth. I've never heard those sounds come from him before. They are pathetic, fraught, twisted with agony. And there's nothing I can do to stop them.

"Peter, listen to my voice! Stay with me," I wail above his agonizing screams, warm tears streaking down my face.

His audible protests culminate in a final, resounding cry, turning feebly into a sob as his body falls limp, trembling viciously.

"Peter," I call, trying to get him to look up at me but he just hangs there, "Peter," I say more firmly, not sure he heard me. When he's still unresponsive, my heart clenches, "Peter!" Arma, not visible but still present, bellows an ominous, uncaring laugh, "Peter! Peter, look at me!"

His body is not even trembling anymore and his skin holds a ghastly grey tone to it, "PETER!" I shriek, suddenly crashing to my knees as the shackles binding my hands come loose.

When I look up, I briefly see the hospital wing and a glimpse of golden fur.

"Sleep in peace now, child," Aslan's voice soothes in my ear as a pleasant rush of warm, peaceful air settles over me.

When I look again, Raven's Rock is all I see, only now I'm standing in the center of the room, clean and unhurt. My heart jolts when I don't see Peter anymore either.

"Don't worry," I hear a smooth chuckle from behind me, and I turn to find Peter completely unharmed and absolutely glowing, "Everything's alright."

"Peter!" I shout with relief, running into his arms and burying my face in his pale blue tunic.

His chuckle vibrates in his chest and tickles my cheek. His large arms settle comfortably around my waist, enclosing me in his radiating warmth. But then I suddenly pull away, remembering the code and Arma's watchful eye.

"What's wrong?" he frowns, and I'm confused at his relaxed attitude.  
>"You <em>know<em> what," I shake my head, adding with a low whisper, "The _code_, Peter."

His confused frown upturns into an amused smile as a glittering twinkle sparkles in his eyes. I stare at him utterly baffled by his reaction.

"Don't worry about that," he smiles, dwarfing my slender hand in his, "Let's go home."

With a gentle tug, Peter leads me to the mouth of the cave. In the back of my mind a nagging little voice speaks, reminding of my oath and the code, telling me not to follow Peter. I'm inclined to listen to it, but the more steps I take with Peter, the quieter the voice becomes until it's non-existent and the heavy pit in my stomach vanishes, while the thrill of what is to come enraptures me.

We step from the cave, only to find ourselves back at Cair Paravel—more specifically, the High King's chamber. My eyes drink in the warm red colors that bathe the stone room in extravagance and my ears prickle at the sound of the crashing waves below the bluffs outside his window. Other than this sound, the castle is entirely quiet and in peace.

Peter's hand let's go of mine, a chasm of cold left to take over my skin as the heat leaves me. I watch him stride out to the balcony, turning as he beckons me to follow. I obey his silent command, settling myself against the stone railing with a sigh. Then I feel his chest press against my back, his arms draping over mine while his fingers intertwine with my hands on the railing. His chin easily rests atop of mine and I'm totally surrounded by Peter. My muscles tense with this thought but soon they relax, and I let myself sink back into his body, into his warmth.

Time passes by—I'm not sure how much—and we stay like that, watching the distant beach below us. I can't even remember the last time I felt so peaceful, so happy. I don't even know if I've _ever_ felt this way.

"I had a dream the other night," he suddenly speaks, voice soft and calm.  
>"A dream? What a marvel!" I gasp with sarcasm, making him squeeze my sides.<br>"It was about you," he continues through a smile, and I feel his body leave mine only to see him at my side with his back against the rail.

"Oh?" I quirk my eyebrow, "Do tell."  
>"It's not the most...honorable," he sheepishly admits, running his fingers through his mop of blonde hair.<p>

I only smile, motioning for him to continue.

"You were here...just like you are now, pressed against the rail, wistfully looking down at the beach. You would've been down there, since that's where you usually are when you're troubled...but you were waiting for something," he tells it like a story, eyes sparkling and lips turned in a smile and I'm hanging on every word.

"You were waiting for me...for my return. I was away in battle," he draws me back inside.  
>"Why wasn't I there?" I ask with a frown.<p>

"In my dream, you weren't a soldier," he tells me, fingers twirling the ends of my hair, "You were a Lady, soft brown hair let down and cascading in waves over your shoulders. Over the lilac, summer gown you wore," even as he said it, I could feel the gentle satin fabric graze my skin.

When I look down, I'm met with an eyeful of purple, my body adorned in the very gown Peter spoke of. It's light, so light I feel like I'm wearing nothing at all and the fabric is nearly sheer as my skin ever-so-slightly glows from under it. The only things holding up the wispy fabric are two delicate ties at the top of the open sleeves on my shoulders.

"When I returned, this is where I found you, where I knew you would be waiting," his hands drift lazily down my arms, his eyes following his movement, "My brow is still damp with the sweat from battle and I was still clad in my armor. In my haste to see you, I found no time to remove it..." his lips travel across my jaw and up to my ear, his voice just above a whisper, "And because I know what seeing me in my armor does to you."

He pulls away with a mischievous glint in his eyes, and devilish grin tugging at the corners of his lips as he's no longer in his blue tunic but dressed in full battle armor. Oh how right he was. He down casts his gaze with a smirk, as he lets my eyes rake over his body in that armor.

"You've been waiting for me for a long time. Your thoughts are betrayed by the way your chest becomes taut underneath your gown," his voice is like a siren's, drawing me closer to him, closer to the four-poster bed. He watches me, the smirk still firmly placed on his lips and the glint in his eye sharpens with flaming desire. I've never seen that look in Peter's eyes before and the mere sight of it sends a tingle throughout my stomach.

"You allow me to remove my plates of armor but your gaze never falters until I'm finally left in nothing by my undershirt and trousers," it happens as he says it, his chest glowing at the top of his untied collar, "My fingertips sink into the soft tissue at your waist as I hold you for the first time in months. With ease I lift you from the floor, placing you gently on your back on the cushion of my mattress."

My skin tingles with the contact of his bed and I watch with mounting anticipation as Peter leisurely crawls his way from the foot of the bed to the head, all the while positioning his body over mine. His elbows rest comfortably on either side of my head, his fingers playing once more with my hair as the full weight of his body comes down on mine. Peter breathes a small chuckle as his eyes shift down the length of my body, bringing a tinge of pink to my cheeks.

"You're not ashamed of your feelings, or your desires because, you see, in my dream...we're married, bound eternally by love," the heaviness of a ring around my finger pulls my attention away from Peter. But I only catch a glimpse of the brilliant white stone before my attention is again on Peter and the way his lips blaze down the length of my neck, pressing open-mouth kisses along my collar bone, and teasing the very top curves of my breasts.

Peter's eyes return to mine, his jaw slack and mouth slightly open as his breath comes out in ragged huffs, hunger consuming his eyes. My eyes close with the feeling of his breath dancing across my cheeks as imagine what he's going to do next. I open my eyes, finding Peter looking down at me again with a deep, unabashed blush that must've formed as a result of the dirty fantasy that raced through his mind.

"What happens next?" I say, bringing him back from the place that kept him from me.  
>"Whatever you want."<p>

In a smooth, swift motion, the full weight of Peter's lips are on mine, a bolt of electricity surging down to the tips of my toes in a sensation unlike any other. There's nothing else I think about but the feeling Peter's lips on mine, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips. My body shudders and I open my mouth to him, finding his tongue in an unexpected rush, to which he promptly responds by pressing his right hand deep into my hip and his left, fingering the curve of my chest. His head turns at an angle, allowing him to deepen the kiss and I finally regain my senses, kissing him back with equal intensity as my hands frantically clutch at his back.

Four years have passed and I've been left wondering what it would be like to kiss him again. And I'm not disappointed. His kiss is tender and sweet but most of all passionate and unreserved, making my skin burn with never-ending warmth. At some point, Peter breaks away, lips swollen and red from our kiss and chest heaving with the inflow of oxygen. I'm annoyed that he so suddenly pulled away and I take it upon myself to continue what he started. Hands trembling with anticipation, I slide them under the hem of his undershirt, pushing the fabric up higher as my hands run up the bare skin of his chest. Following my motion, Peter holds his arms above his head, letting the shirt come away from his body.

He shudders as the cold air kisses his exposed torso but he huddles closer to me, resuming his eager kiss upon my lips. This time, though, raw instinct drives his feverish actions, and his knee kicks open my legs, his body relaxing firmly between them. A gasp escapes my lips at this new pressure between my legs, and I hold Peter closer to me, not wanting the feeling to go away. Newfound bliss overtakes my body as my stomach tingles every time Peter's hips connect with mine. Urgency begins to seep into my body and I quickly find myself untying the knot at the front his trousers, not even realizing that Peter has already undone one of the ties at my shoulder. I finish the race before he does, laughing when he curses, the knot above my other shoulder proving elusive to him.

My hand pressed to his chest, feeling his heart pounding, I push him back and remove his hand from my dress. Taking my eyes from his rippling muscles, I turn them to the tie at my shoulder, letting it come free with a couple tugs. The dress falls away from my body to a heap at my waist as the full length of my torso is bare for Peter's eyes to see. I giggle, seeing him swallow hard, eyes gaping at the fully exposed curves of my body.

"Peter," I say with a smile, pulling on his sides, bringing his body back on top of me.  
>"Evi," he says in the same playful way, eyes never leaving mine when his mouth encloses around the sensitive tissue of my breast.<p>

Somewhere in my chest there's an explosion that furiously makes its way up my throat, emitting as a low moan from my lips. Peter tears away the dress from the rest of my body with a growl so primal it makes my skin tingle and my hair stand on end. His fingers dance on my stomach, methodically moving over my abdomen, down to my legs where they sink into my thighs. I let him look, feeling my face flush as he takes in the span of my body. My head spins with lust and expectation and I push his trousers down with my feet just as Peter's fingers find my center between my legs.

Another moan floats from my mouth but is cut off as Peter's mouth captures mine once again, in a frenzy of passionate kisses. His body sways and his fingers work ten kinds of pleasant sensations through my core. I moan into his mouth, becoming fed up with this kid stuff, wanting nothing more than the feeling of _him_ between my legs. As if sensing this, Peter removes his hand, the full length of his body covering me again.

On their own accord, my legs fall open, Peter taking instantly to his motion, another animalistic groan on his lips. I've never felt anything so euphoric, so thrilling in all my life. It's far perfect and hurts at times, but none of it matters because we eventually work together, finding that perfect rhythm and that perfect ecstasy, that makes the initial inexperience seem like nothing. Eventually the moans from our lips cease and the kisses become less fervent but remain just as sweet. The brisk air flows across my body, cascading goose bumps along my skin and I open my eyes, gazing up to the blue orbs that are Peter's. His hair is a matted, sweaty mess against his forehead and his chest glistens with perspiration and trembles with exhaustion. His hands clutch desperately at my body as I lean forward to press a chaste kiss to his forehead.

With a huff and a goofy smile, Peter rolls next to me, burying his face in a feathery pillow. I laugh when he childishly moves from my pillow to the crook of my neck, his nose creating tickling sensations. But then he breathes a sigh, hooking his arm around me and bringing me into his body. I draw the silk sheets of Peter's bed over my shoulders and rest my head calmly on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat.

"And after we're finished," he continues to regale me with his dream which makes me smile, "We spend the night talking about our future together until we eventually fall asleep."

But I have no energy to talk as much as he says so I simply lay there, enjoying the feel of his fingers combing through my hair and the sound of his heart beating in his chest. It's like this that I fall into an easy sleep.

The weight of the world is on my shoulders when I wake up and it's not the golden warmth of Peter's chamber that I find, but the cold stone of the infirmary. An uncomfortable burning sensation washes over me, starting at my legs and working its way up my body. It's with a heavy heart that I realize all of what just happened was a dream, a dream so vivid I thought it was real, but nonetheless still a dream. Something stirs at my side and I glance over to see Peter rousing from sleep as well. His head had been placed in his arms that were folded on the mattress of my infirmary bed.

At the foot of my bed, I see Edmund snoring in a chair with his feet propped, his travel clothes tattered and muddy, like he never changed when Finnick and the others rescued him. Over at the side of the room are Lucy and Susan, who were comfortably sharing the couch in slumber. My eyes return to Peter, who's now looking at me with a sad look that I can't even begin to comprehend.

"And then we wake up, to find that it wasn't real," he says, voice barely above a whisper.

I choke back a sob realizing that it wasn't just my dream, but _our_ dream. Somehow, our minds were one and we _shared_ that dream.

For a couple hours—even if it was just in our heads—Peter and I were together.

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><p><strong>Confused? Good. That's the way I intended it. The majority of this chapter takes place in Evi's fever-gripped mind as she lies in the hospital wing. Stream of consciousness my friends. And if you weren't confused then I'll just have to try harder next time. <strong>

**Anyway this chapter is for princess emma of narnia who just wanted to see Peter and Evi together. Well...they were. Just not in reality haha. If there's anything else you readers would like to see shoot me a message!**


	21. So Let Me Be

**Bah! Ok...I returned to campus and found that I'm going to be busier than expected. So in all likelihood I won't be able to finish the story before classes...that begin Friday...which I feel positively awful about because now you lovely readers will have to suffer through inconsistent updating. **

**With that said, don't be alarmed if I disappear until the holidays. And please, **_**please **_**don't be angry with me if that happens. I want to finish this just as much as you want to! **

**Ok, I'll stop wasting your time and get to the next chapter...**

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><p>That dream with Peter was a heavy burden in my mind in the days that followed. Aslan meant for it to give me peace and closure but all it gave me was a hole so deep in my heart that it rendered me silent. Not even Edmund could bring out more than a few words from me. And Peter...I avoided him like the plague. I just couldn't bear to face him, for more than one reason.<p>

For the time being, I'm not allowed to go on my patrols, Finnick acting as interim General in my stead. Peter says I'm not healed enough to go back out there. I think it's an excuse to keep me around the castle, even if I _am_ ignoring him.

"Every time I get close to something, I find the pages ripped out!" Lucy scoffs, slamming a large leather-bound book shut as she pulls out another one.

"There are so _many_," Susan breathes. It's meant as in invitation for me to come over and help. But I simply blink my eyes and her and gaze back out the window, where I have a clear view of Peter and Edmund in the thick of a practice duel. Peter is obviously the better swordsman, but it wouldn't surprise me if Edmund surpasses his older brother in a few years.

I _really_ hate being stuck here. I should be out with Finnick, defending Narnia's borders. In Cair Paravel, I'm restless and antsy. This is probably the longest I've been cooped up in the castle. As I mentioned before, I make it a point not to stay in one place too long. What's worse is that I hear reports that the raids are increasing in number and severity but our _noble_ king has yet to take serious action.

"Perhaps the witch had a son?" Susan poses.

The second line of Edmund's kidnapping note is still puzzling to us, making me believe that it's a hint at another way the witch can return. Clearly she's seeking a male but to what purpose? As Lucy already pointed out, anything of value has been ripped out of the Narnian archives. That in itself is profoundly disturbing. It would seem that someone is working against us and from _within_ the walls of Cair Paravel no less.

"I think it's right time for a break," Mr. Tumnus' voice warmly invades the library.

He carries a tray of four mugs in his hands, all containing steaming milk with honey, his signature drink. Lucy and Susan give mild cheers, gratefully accepting the interruption. The faun gives me mine last.

"I put in a little something extra to yours," he winks, and I can smell the sweet liqueur among the likes of the honey.

I offer him a weak smile as thanks, certainly more than I've given anyone else these past few days, and he's encouraged by the gesture. I take a sip of the warm milk, letting the flavors roll over my tongue before I swallow, the liqueur creating a warm fuzzy feeling in my stomach.

"Good evening, girls."

I nearly choke on my drink, wondering when Peter and Edmund left their field of play, as they now show up here, stinking and covered in sweat.

"Ew, Peter, you reek," Susan, pushes the eldest Pevensie away from her as he tries to press a brotherly kiss to her cheek.

"Read anything good in your books?" Ed asks, settling in the chair nearest me.

Peter shoots me a chaste look, as if gauging my mood, before he takes the seat between Mr. Tumnus and Edmund. I remain at my place on the window ledge, listening to the five of them trade stories about daily life in the castle. Part of me wishes I could join in with my own comical stories about Dame Adelaide or Onoffre while the other part of me wants to throw up at the simplicity of it all. The bitter part of me eventually wins out as I rise from my seat, turning out into the hall.

My mindless walking brings me to the infirmary as I decide to seek medical clearance from the Chief Healer Bryon. If Bryon clears me then Peter will have no grounds to keep me locked up in the castle.

"My Lady Evelyn," the aging faun beams at me when I knock on his door, "What can I do for you?"  
>"I need you to clear me for patrol," I respond, surprising even myself at how strong the words came from my mouth.<br>"My Lady, I'm not so sure that is wise. Your muscles have not fully healed and the burns on your legs...they could still fester," he hesitantly tells me.  
>"They won't and I feel fine."<p>

It was a lie.

It hurts to stand for more than a few minutes and I can't even begin to fathom how I'm going to ride a horse with the fresh burns on the inside of my legs.

But I _have_ to get out of here.

"If you want to be cleared you'll have to pass a number of exams," he explains with a doubtful look.  
>"So be it. Let's do them," I hastily say.<p>

"I'm afraid I need some time to prepare. We can begin tomorrow morning," he rounds to the other side of his desk, pulling out a few leaves of parchment, "Let's see...endurance, strength, coordination, balance, mental capacity...I think what I'll have you do as far as coordination, strength, and endurance is enter a duel. I'll also need you to ride a horse for me to see how the burns hold up...and the others I'll have to come up with tonight. If you pass all your tests I'll clear you for duty. Sound fair?"

"What choice do I have?" I offer him a sardonic smile before turning on my heel.

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><p>It's odd how different life is in the castle compared to life on patrol. Things are lighter here, more festive with a catastrophe being defined as the choice drink to pair with the night's supper. People eat, drink, and play at their own leisure with nothing of merit to worry their petty little heads. Sometimes I feel that's how it is with the Kings and Queens. People's homes are being razed to the ground and they're here pretending to battle and regaling each other with tales of fancy. It reminds me all too much like home...or rather New York. It's that same dull, monotonous life that I escaped and wound up in Narnia.<p>

Of course...even _that_ is a lie.

I know where my bitterness comes from.

I'm not an idiot.

It's coming from Peter and the way he looks at me with that same sappy look on his face. It comes from the fact that I really _do_ enjoy life at Cair Paravel but can never keep it because of my duty. It comes from that cursed dream I had, reminding me that I can never have Peter the way I did.

It's because of all this that I'm practically jumping out of my skin and my teeth are constantly on edge. I have to get away. Being constantly reminded of everything I can't have is going to drive me up the wall.

Somehow I end up in the gardens amidst all my thoughts. I'm not really a flower kind of girl since my allergies are exacerbated by the pollen but in Narnia, that seems not to happen. The flowers here are different. They're more radiant, brightly colored, and smell so much better than they do back on earth. My favorites just in this garden are the blue ones that look like calla lilies. At night they have a soft glow to them and burn dark but in the day they are so pale and flecked with silver. And they remind me of Peter. With a sigh, I spread out on the springy grass, interestedly looking at all the flora around me.

Can't say I've ever really stopped to look before.

"This is the last place I'd ever expect to find you in," Peter's voice interrupts my solitude and for a second, I'm angry with him for it. But then I look at him and I realize how much I miss him and all is forgiven.

We haven't even so much as breathed a word to one another about the dream. I can't even believe all of that happened. _Of course_ I find Peter attractive and _of course_ I long to kiss him and have him hold me but to that great extent? It hasn't crossed my mind all that much.

But...now that it has...it's hard to forget.

"It's quiet," I softly reply, watching as he lies in the grass next to me.  
>"Like you've been the past couple of days," he comments and I turn my eyes away from him from embarrassment as the dream sears through my memory.<p>

But then I feel his fingers on my cheek and they turn my head so that I'm forced to look at him.

"Don't look away," he gently pleads, cocking his head a little to the side to observe my face.

God, how the tiniest things he does gets my heart racing.

My eyes close as I try to rid my mind of certain images of Peter and a furious blush darkens my cheeks as I wonder if all that I saw of him in my dream is _real_. When I open my eyes, I see Peter amusedly smiling at me, a blush of his own fading. I've never felt so embarrassed before. Those thoughts are so private and I would never reveal them to anyone but here's Peter, knowing every fickle little detail of what occurred. It's like you _know_ that kind stuff happens and you're happy to casually talk about it, but when it concerns _you_ it becomes private. At least, that's how I feel.

Peter breathes a sigh, rolling onto his back while his hands are stretched over his head, fingers sliding through the dewy blades of grass, "Makes you wonder if it would really feel that way."

Holy crap he's _talking_ about it!

And I can't help the next blush that I think consumes my entire face. Thankfully Peter doesn't see it as he eyes are turned upward to the shining stars in the sea of blue nothing. At my silence he turns his head to look at me.

"Still silent, eh?" he asks, "Not because of the dream I hope?"  
>"I'm silent because there's nothing to say," I snap, surprising him with my outburst.<br>"Nothing to say? You could say anything you wanted because it never happened," he points out.

"That's the _point_! It never _will_ happen, Peter!" my voice rises as my thoughts from earlier form into words, "It was nothing but hollow thoughts! A false hope intending to give us peace but only gives us hell!"  
>"But it did bring some peace," he frowns, clearly the dream giving him more than it ever gave me.<p>

"No. It didn't! Because you know why?" I start scrambling to my feet, "Because _actually_ having sex is more _real_. So many more feelings and emotions than _you_ could _ever_ hope to imagine!"

It was a pretty low blow, outing Peter's virginity when he had disclosed that fact to me in the confidence that I wouldn't laugh or judge. In truth, the dream is just about as close as it gets to the real thing. But I'm just so _frustrated_ by his complacent attitude about it... while I'm left with a gaping hole.

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><p>The things I said to Peter last night, weigh heavily on my shoulders the next morning as I go through Healer Bryon's fitness tests. The tests set forth for balance and mental awareness were a breeze, despite the fact I was slightly distracted by the pang of guilt in my gut. Horse-riding wasn't nearly as easy and was downright painful but I put on a passive face and the bandages held up.<p>

We are currently headed down to the practice field where Bryon arranged a duel to test my endurance and strength. This would prove to be a challenge with the way my legs twinge with pain if I do more than run. Matters only become worse when I see that _Peter_ is the one I'm fighting.

My face pales and a flurry of curses run through my mind as I see the way he's irritably glaring at me. I had hoped to get cleared for duty _without_ Peter finding out about it and there's no doubt in my mind that he's infuriated that I went behind his back to do so. That...and the fact that I wounded his pride last night.

"I don't have to _win_ to pass...do I?" I frantically ask, knowing that there's no way I'm going to beat Peter. Bouts against Peter are difficult as it is...now I'm ailing _and_ he pissed at me.

"No. I'm only observing the way you move, the way your muscles react, and how well you can maintain extended physical activity. The result of the fight is irrelevant to your health," he promptly replies, nose buried in his notes.

We are to fight with blunted swords, adding to the laundry list of advantages Peter holds over me and I feel my confidence deflate as he wordlessly hands me a blade, the tip dropping to the ground as I adjust to the heavy metal. Bryon settles himself on a nearby fence.

"Take it easy at first and work your way up from there!" he calls to us, giving Peter a nod to begin.

His face is hard and calculating as we circle around each other, the first move yet to be made. I bounce from foot to foot, preparing my aggravated muscles for what is to come. Peter makes the first lunge, one that I avoid with a dodge roll off to the side. I'm a bit slow to my feet and my face contorts from pain as I wince, something that goes unnoticed by Bryon but not to Peter.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" he grunts, taking another swing at me, one that is only parried.

"Because," I heave his blade off mine, taking a few swipes of my own, "I have a duty."

"Come off it," he chides, parrying my quick blows, and dealing one to my side with the flat of the blade, "Just admit you're trying to get away from me."

My chest heaves up and down as I hold my side while the pain throbs away before I prepare my next plan of attack.

"Fine," my word emphasized by my heavy strike, "I don't want to be here with you."

He parries my counterattack and hits his mark again, this time my shoulder. I let out a small yell of pain, my breath ragged as the fight takes more of my energy than it does Peter's. But I refuse to stop.

"You know what? That's fine. I can accept that...understand it even," he flips his sword deftly in his hand, waiting for me to resume, "But that fact that you didn't have the _guts_—" he swing his sword above his head and down at me, "—The _decency,_ to tell me the truth is what pisses me right off."

More and more Peter is getting blows in but I still block my fair share and still refuse to back down despite the agony in my legs.

"No. Instead you go behind my _back_—" his swings become more harsh, carrying almost full weight now, "—And I have to find out from _Bryon_ what you were planning. You couldn't have just told me last_ night_?"

"I'm _sorry_!" I finally cry out, my throat dry from listening to him and from the exhaustion of our heated exchange.  
>"So <em>sorry<em> that you had to blow up in my face? After you've said _nothing_ to me the past few days! Do you really hate being around me that _much_?"

It's a real duel now—at least the intensity of a real duel—and tears burn the corners of my eyes from the exhaustion, if not from Peter's harsh words. And I can't bring myself to answer him nor to continue to fight. All it takes is one well-placed swing and my sword is ripped from my hands, my knees sinking into the ground as my body trembles with each exhale.

"Fine," Peter spits, voice in a low and seething, "_Go_ then," and he throws the sword down in front of me and storms back up to the castle.

I close my eyes, willing the pain—emotional and physical—to just go away. Upon hearing someone else approaching, I open my eyes and stand to meet Bryon.

"You lasted much longer than I expected, General Wood. I see no reason to keep you under supervision any longer," he tells me.

The only good thing to come of this day.


	22. My Heart is Reeling

**Love this chapter****.**

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><p>Wasting no time after I was cleared, I joined Finnick at West Watch. Things began to unravel shortly after that. Out on my patrols, which lasted for long stretches of time, I immersed myself in my duty and adhered to it with strict determination. The way I moved and carried out attacks scared even Finnick. To me all there was, was the next battle. I would return from one patrol, angry to be back at the castle only to head out at first light the next day to the following mission. It's not like I was <em>seeking<em> trouble. There was plenty of it around as the raids took a scary turn. I wouldn't call it a crisis but this is the closest we've come to one thus far in the Golden Age.

"He's not going to like you going off in the dead of night. _Alone_ no less!"  
>"What do you want me to do about it, Ed?" I hiss, buckling my belt around my waist as we race through the corridors in the dead of night.<br>"_Tell him_ where you are going! Take him _with you_ for God's sake! You can't just go off to the White Witch's castle _by yourself_!" he angrily hisses back.

People are being kidnapped in the raids these days. And by people I literally mean humans, all of them male. A trait that began not long after Edmund's own abduction. Tonight Greywind alerted me to another one, this time much closer to Cair Paravel and I realized what the second line of the note meant. The White Witch is seeking a _Son of Adam_ not just a son. So I high-tailed it out of bed with a plan to scour every nook and cranny inside the witch's castle. That is, until Edmund caught me out of bed which brings me to my current predicament.

It's not a good plan, I realize, with the very strong possibility that the dwarves, minotaurs, and hags are all hiding out in their former mistress' dwelling...but I have to do this.

"Then come along!" I say louder, now that we're outside heading to the stables.  
>"Evi, you <em>know<em> that I can't. I've got about ten different diplomats coming tomorrow from The Seven Islands. You _need_ to tell Peter," he argues.  
>"You think I'm going to let <em>Peter<em> come on a patrol like this? I wouldn't hear the end of it!"

"You don't have much of a choice," a surly voice stopped Edmund and me dead in our tracks before the stables.

It's Peter...oh crap, _and_ Finnick.

I round on Edmund with a fierce look, accusing him for tattling on me.

"It wasn't me!" he protests, defensively putting up his hands.  
>"Greywind told us what you were doing," Finnick says, an annoyed look on his face.<p>

And Peter looks positively livid, arms crossed, his blue eyes simply glowering at me. This is now that _second_ time I've gone behind his back...

"Do you have a burning death wish we don't know about?" Peter harshly poses, "The witch's castle! Are you _daft_!"  
>"I think she's bypassed daft and gone straight to barking," Finnick mutters.<p>

"Enough!" I shot at both of them, "Look, I _get_ how dangerous this is! But there is _nothing_ in our library that can explain what the witch did! Now don't you think the witch just _might_ have kept some kind of journal or grimoire or _something_ in her castle?"

"_Fine_! BUT GOING OFF _ON YOUR OWN_? Evi, just how BLOODY MAD _ARE_ YOU? You're rude, you're brash, y-you're careless! Going off at all hours of the night to go on recklessly POINTLESS missions—"

"Tell her how you really feel, Pete," Edmund mumbles next to me, shocked—almost humiliated—by Peter's outburst."

"YOU CAN'T DEFEND NARNIA ALL ON YOUR OWN!"  
>"Then WHO will? For months, Peter, MONTHS, we've been telling you about these raids and you haven't done a <em>THING<em>!" I shout back, "You don't let me leave for more than a couple weeks; you don't even let me travel outside Narnia's borders WITHOUT YOU! HOW THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO DO MYJOB!"

Finnick and Edmund carefully watch as Peter fumes in silence, jaw clenched and eyes glaring at me. I don't think Peter and I have never had a row like this before. He's been frustrated and irritated with me, of course, but it's never escalated into something like this.

"Get your horse, we're going," he commands, voice lower in volume but still seething.  
>"Yes, <em>your highness<em>," I comply through grit teeth, yanking Finnick into the stables with me to prepare our horses.

Out the corner of my eye I see Finnick reproachfully shaking his head at me.

"What?" I snap, "You got something to say to me too? Go on then! Tell me how stupid I am or how fucking disrespectful I am!"

I underestimated how upset Peter's comments made me.

He calmly turns to me, "I don't think you're any of those things. I _do_ think, though, that you put far too much pressure on yourself. You're only one person, Evi, Peter was right in saying you can't do it all by yourself. He just went about it in a very harsh way."

That was _not_ what I was expecting, from _Finnick_ no less. His comments make me feel slightly better but then I began to feel guilty about the way I've been treating him. Maybe I _do_ need to ease up on him...

Still, Peter's mood does not ease as the three of us ride north to the White Witch's castle. He rides ahead of Finnick and me, shoulders tense, jaw firmly set. It twists my stomach in knots knowing that _I _made him this angry. When I decided to go off on my own, I knew it would make him mad, I just didn't realize _how_ mad he would get.

"What if we get there and we're faced with an entire host of rebels?" Peter growls ahead of us.  
>"<em>You<em> chose to come, remember," I murmur, receiving a fierce glare in return.

"I don't think that will be the case," Finnick disrupts the tension between Peter and me, "But if we're lucky it's where they're keeping the men they've abducted."

It's probably a good thing Finnick came. He'll prevent Peter and me from biting each other's heads off...

We ride at a steady pace all through the night, following the Great River up until dawn when we finally reach what's left of Jadis' icy castle.

"There it is," Finnick breathes a sigh.

Before now, I've never seen the castle. From what Edmund has told me it had been coated in a dense pack of crystalline ice, with many winding passages and several turrets. He had said it was quite scary when he was there. The castle in front of us now—has or is—none of those things. The ice melted long ago when spring came to Narnia and at least three of the turrets are now heaping piles of stone. It may not have been the castle from the Long Winter, but as we trod upon the cobblestone courtyard, we can _feel_ the disquieting air about the place.

"Do you think we're alone?" I voice my question, warily glancing around as I drop down from my horse.  
>"Only one way to find out," Finnick sighs, taking point.<p>

Peter and I shoot each other a hard look before following Finnick into the castle. There are few windows inside, making it exceedingly difficult for us to see our way around. Eventually we stumble on a couple braziers with dry torches that we use to light our way. The entrance hall branches off into a few corridors and a staircase that leads to the upper levels.

"I'll go search upstairs. Evi, you'll have to stay with the King," Finnick says, ignoring my pleading look.

Finnick treads up the stairs leaving Peter and me to figure out where we want to go.

"Let's go this way," we say simultaneously but point in different directions.

I let out an annoyed sigh, "Follow me. I'm supposed to protect you."

"No. _You_ follow _me_, I'm your King. Besides, I have the torch," he counters and I'm forced to follow him as he decides to start walking down the left corridor.

Our careful footsteps eerily echo around the wide stone walls of the corridor, while the only other sound that can be heard is the flickering of the orange flame in Peter's hand. We enter a vast room, the only one down the passage. High vaulted ceiling and ruined columns that must've stretched to the top and a raised pedestal at the far end where a pile of rubble sits. This must've been the throne room. A couple rays of sunlight streak in from where the roof has collapsed, allowing me a wider berth from Peter.

I suddenly pause wildly looking around as a scratching noise reaches my ears. Turning my head upward, I catch sight of a large crow stealthily perched in one of the holes in the ceiling. It's completely still...too still. It hasn't seen me looking at it so I pretend to ignore it, taking a few more steps forward as I casually string an arrow to my bow. In the blink of an eye I fire at the bird, it squawking as the arrow narrowly misses its head.

"Dammit! I think we're going to have company," I curse.  
>"If we don't already," Peter cryptically replies.<br>"Then we better hurry," I say, drifting farther away from his light.

"Evi, no! STOP!"

Peter's warning comes a second too late, as I take another step, falling into the gaping hole in the floor.

Only, I don't fall.

I'm tucked safely under Peter's arm and against his chest, his fist so tightly closed around my tunic I can feel his muscles trembling and hear his heart rapidly beating. My own heart is pounding in my ears as I look down at the hole Peter had saved me from.

"_Look_ where you're going next time!" he yells at me.

Peter is _really_ angry with me and I'm not entirely sure why. I mean, I can understand his disappointment in my betrayal _again_...but that can't be the _only_ glowers at me for a second longer until we both hear a cry coming from the hole. Loosening his death grip around my waist some, we peer down into the hole.

"Who's down there?" Peter calls.

"Is that the King?"  
>"It's King Peter!" Several voices excitedly call up to us, belonging to the men that were kidnapped.<p>

That also means that _somewhere_ around this castle, there must be evil Narnians. With this thought in mind, I unsheathe my long-knives in the event that we're ambushed.

"How do we get you out?" Peter calls above the chatter.

"There's a hidden staircase behind the throne!"  
>"Quickly, now!"<br>"There's no telling when they'll be back!"

"Go. I'll keep watch," I gently push his chest. He's very unwilling to let me go but eventually he gives me a terse nod, vanishing behind the pile of rubble.

Anxiously I wait, either for Peter to return or the witch's supporters to show up and I only hope Finnick hasn't come to trouble.

"Evi! They're all here! Everyone who's been kidnapped!" Peter cheers.  
>"That's great, Pete, but I think you better hurry it up!" I humor him, hearing rapid footsteps approaching.<p>

Minotaurs.

At least five of them.

Along with a couple dwarves, hags, and three werewolves.

"Right," I breathe.

There's not a single thought in my head as I charge forward, ducking under a battle axe, and taking out the black minotaur from behind. There's no method to my madness as I weave in and out of my adversaries, just trying not to get hit and dealing a few blows myself. I take out two of the werewolves before the third tackles me to the ground, my back skidding painfully across the rough stone and the monster's claws swiping at the front of my chest. He snarls in my face, saliva and stinking breath washing over me. I hear a loud yell, the were-wolf falls away from my body as Peter wrestles it to the ground, Rhindon casting a reflective glare in his eyes.

Ignoring the biting pain in my neck, Peter and I stand back to back dueling with the circle of beasts around us. In battle, Peter and I are like a well-oiled machine, knowing when to duck and when to strike as if we can read each other's thoughts. With me alone these creatures might have had a chance, but with Peter and me together, we're unstoppable and we fell the rest.

"We're clear! Let's go!" Peter shouts back to the men and we dash forward out into the corridor.

Back in the entrance hall, footsteps clamor from every direction as we realize this _is_ the base for the rebel Narnians. Peter shows the others the way out of the castle where they safely reach the woods.

"Evi, come _on_!" Peter urgently yells.  
>"What about Finnick?" I shout back, firing arrows down one of the passages.<p>

Peter doesn't respond, for Finnick comes racing down the stairs, a massive wave of heat trailing after him. My eyes widen in horror at the ball of flames snaking its way down from the upper levels.

"What the _hell_ did you do?" I shout.  
>"Improvised!" Finnick yells back, "Now let's <em>go<em>!"

Without any further delay, we get the hell out of that castle, trapping the witch's supporters inside the burning building. Outside the cool wind sending chills down my arms and stinging the claw marks in my neck.

"How many do you think are in there?" I heavily pant, climbing up onto my horse.  
>"Enough to stop the organized raids," Finnick smirks.<br>"How did you start a fire in a _stone_ castle?" Peter asks, hearing the castle crumbling down behind us.  
>"More importantly did you find <em>anything<em> about the witch?" I override Peter's question, hoping to God Finnick didn't burn down something important.

"I did!" but then his face falls, "But then I lost them."  
>"FINNICK!"<br>"I was being attacked! Sorry I couldn't hold onto a series of books!" he defends himself.  
>"That could've been our only clue!" I let out a frustrated sigh, "Dammit, Finnick!"<p>

I know that I really shouldn't be mad at Finnick because if he didn't drop the books he probably would be dead. But I am. Now we may never know what the witch is capable of.

"I did find this," Peter says, pulling out a relatively small, leather-bound book, "It was down in that room where all the men were being held."  
>"Toss it here, let's see," Finnick says, catching the small book, leafing through its tattered pages, "This could be something."<p>

Thank God.

I breathe a sigh of relief as we all turn to watch the castle go up in flames.

Good riddance.

The rest of the day, Finnick, Peter, and I escort all the men home, reuniting them with their families. It feels good, knowing that everything turned out all right and none of the men who were kidnapped were seriously injured. Whatever the rebels were planning is probably on a permanent hiatus, now that a significant part of their army is dead. And now, thanks to Peter, we have a lead on the White Witch. Today was undeniably a victory.

So why doesn't it feel like one?

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><p>"They're beautiful children, Mrs. Beaver," Finnick compliments the beaming beaver, two sleeping kits in her arms.<p>

The Beavers' dam wasn't far from where we were, so we decided to drop in on our old friends for some dinner and see their new babies, Edgar and Russell. Honest to God, it takes everything in me not to squeal and hug the _shit_ out of those little boys. They are So. Damn. _Cute_. I'm a sucker for baby animals.

Sue me.

Finnick is a little less enthusiastic than I am, sitting between me and the bassinets almost as if he is preventing me from stealing the little darlings away. And Peter is even less enthusiastic, chair tipped back on two legs with his back flush against the wall and one of his legs bent and propped up on the table, using his knee as an armrest. He's been quiet the whole time we've been here, idly watching the rest of us swoon over the children.

"Would you like to hold 'em, dear?" Mrs. Beaver asks me, my eyes turning all doe-like and eager, making Finnick laugh at me.

"ShutupFinnickstoplaughing," I rapidly say holding out my arms, "I would love to."

In my arms, the boys seem so much smaller than when they were in their mother's. Their tiny bodies snuggly fit in my cradled arms and I'm absolutely beaming.

"Watch her, Mrs. Beaver, or you might end up missing two children," Finnick teases with another laugh, pulling at the ends of my hair. The two parents laugh, knowing how much I love their babies, and I even catch Peter smiling in the corner.

"How 'bout some more ale, Peter," Mr. Beaver offers, pouring more of the golden liquid in Peter's cup.

"As much as I'd love to stay, Beavers, I must be getting back to Cair Paravel," Finnick stands with a sigh.  
>"For <em>what<em>?" I confusedly look at him.  
>"This book needs to be processed. Maybe the historians can translate some of the runes in it," Finnick holds up the book that Peter nicked from the castle.<br>"Well I can go do that," I start to move to get up but Finnick, pushes me back down.  
>"No. You stay. You could use the time to relax. I'll see you tomorrow," he squeezes my shoulder before leaving the cozy house.<p>

After Finnick leaves, I relax back into the chair with Edgar and Russell still in my arms. Motherly instincts are hard to ignore as I softly sway the two bundles in my arms back and forth. For all I care they _could_ be my own, I sure love them like they are. One of the boys lets out a soft little squeak, burrowing farther into my arm and all I do is smile, adjusting the loose swaddle. From the corner, I can sense Peter's gaze and I look up at him with a small smile as the other beaver follows his brother's previous movement.

I can't quite place the look on Peter's face as he watches me place the two bundles back into their cradles. There's not a smile on his face but it's not a hard or angry stare, it's just deeply pensive. Out of the corner of my eye I see Peter downing the rest of his ale and stand with a sigh.

"I'm going to get some air," he nods, leaving the lodge without another word.

The Beavers can tell that something is amiss with Peter. They could the moment we arrived but didn't say anything for fear of disrespecting their High King. A lot more worried about it than I am, that's for sure. There's usually little formality between Peter and I, which in hindsight is probably not the most appropriate for a king and his general.

"What's got Peter in such a mood?" Mr. Beaver asks, pouring me some ale.  
>"He's not too happy with me at the moment," I sigh, taking a sip from the cup, "Apart from that, I'm not entirely sure what's wrong."<br>"Have you tried speaking with him, dear?" Mrs. Beaver suggests.  
>"That usually doesn't get us anywhere," my gaze drops down to my feet and I trace my fingers over the pattern on the metal cup.<p>

The Beavers, like most Narnians, aren't even aware of the code the Order abides by. For all they know, Peter and I have remained friends by choice not that it's forbidden.

"You know what I think?" Mr. Beaver starts, and I lift my gaze, "I think that you and Peter should be together."  
>"Beaver! That's a little <em>bold<em> to say, don't you think?" Mrs. Beaver scolds her husband.

You'd think I would've heard this enough from Edmund and Lucy...but I smile anyway. Their bickering is just so adorable.

"No worries, Mrs. Beaver. And to answer your question, any chance of Peter and I being together died nearly five years ago."

The answer came so easily from my mouth from all the times I've had to say it. But just because the words form so _easily_ doesn't mean it _gets_ any easier to say it. It's like a hard slap in the face reminding me of my oath and the reality of the situation.

"Even so, the boy needs you now," Mr. Beaver quietly points out.

He was right. As I think about it, I realize that it's been months since Peter and I have spent time together. In fact, the last time we were alone was back in the gardens...

The night air is warm, scattered in white light from the bright full moon taking over the sky. Peter is down on the bank of the river, skipping a few stones into the dark, calm water. I don't know how to approach him, though. He's given me no sign to let me know that he's forgiven me for lying so I don't even know if he'll _want_ to talk to me.

"Hey," is all I muster, joining him on the rocks.

He chucks another stone across the water, it bouncing five times before he answers, "Hey."

Peter scours the ground for a couple more stones, clearly not in the mood to talk to me. I'm about to turn to go back inside when I feel anger suddenly swelling in my chest. I'm going to _make_ him talk to me. After all those things he said about me, I deserve an explanation.

"Why are you being like this?" I fold my arms across my chest, watching him skip another stone.  
>"Like what?" he curtly replies, throwing another.<br>"This!" I point to his distant body language and refer to his overall snarky attitude, "You're brooding and temperamental. You've said not but five words to me all day. Not including what you yelled at me this morning! I mean, do you even _know _how much that hurt!"

"DO YOU EVEN _KNOW _WHAT YOU'VE PUT ME THROUGH THESE PAST FEW _MONTHS_!" he roars, throwing his handful of rocks in the water all at once, "I mean, you're hardly ever at Cair Paravel. LEAVING every other night for WEEKS at a time, fighting God only knows WHAT! While I'm STUCK waiting to see if you even come BACK! Whenever there's some 'important' mission it's always YOU who volunteers! It's always YOU who sacrifices themselves for the greater good! YOU ACT LIKE YOU DON'T EVEN CARE IF YOU DIE!"

"Peter, that's not true," my quiet voice tries to calm his rampage.

"AND THEN...AND _THEN_ I FIND OUT THAT YOU'RE GOING ON A SUICIDE MISSION BEHIND MY BACK, BEHIND FINNICK'S BACK! JUST WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU TRYING TO PROVE,EVI!"

His rage stuns me into silence as the tears brim my eyes.

"Why are you so angry?" I shake my head, the tears spilling over, my voice not even above a whisper.

He turns away, frustratingly running both his hands through his already disheveled blonde hair and kicking some loose gravel into the water. Never, not _once_ have I seen Peter loose his cool like this.

"Evi..." he finally turns back to me, eyes red with tears, "Evi, I love you."

Every muscle in my body freezes and I swear my heart stops, his words resonating in my ears.

"I've tried to convince myself otherwise. I've tried to push you away...to let you leave. And I've tried to tell myself that I don't...but...every time I see you... my heart races...Every time you're not around...I long to see your face again. You drive me completely mad," he adds with a tear-filled chuckle, "You're loud, you're unpredictable...but I love every single thing about you. You've got me so un-bloody-hinged, I can hardly stand it. And every time you go riding off I pray...just pray to God I'll get to see your beautiful face one more time so that I can tell you all of this," he's now standing right in front of me, his hand cupping my face and wiping away the furious tears tumbling down my rosy cheeks.

"Peter, you _can't_...tell me this," I choke back a sob.

"Well I just did," he defiantly declares, "And I'll do it again...I love you, Evi," he breathes the words in a sweet sigh, leaning his forehead against mine.

I tightly close my eyes, curling my fingers around his tunic, willing myself to _not_ to give in to my temptations as Peter's breath flushes against my cheeks, his lips so close that I can _feel_ them brushing mine. Just when I think I can't do it anymore, he draws back.

"I _know_ that you can't feel the same way about me," he sighs, opening his eyes again to look at me, "And that's ok...I'll still be waiting."

That's just it.

I _do_ feel the same way.

Like the bursting of a dam, fast and furious, a sudden realization grips every bone and every muscle of my body, showing absolutely _zero_ signs of letting go. My God...it's _always_ been true...from the day we met...to this very moment. I was just too _stupid,_ too _oblivious_ to see it...

I'm in love with Peter.


	23. Well Another Crazy Day

**Good news! Just finished up this story today! Hooray you won't have to suffer through bad updating! It might be a little rushed in my opinion but I've gotten down everything that I needed to and I think you guys will like it. **

**So here's the next chapter. **

**Look for the next one sometime this weekend :)**

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><p><strong>-Ten Years After The Battle of Beruna-<br>**

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><p>"I feel so <em>old<em>. Finnick, I'm falling apart," I exaggerate, collapsing into his arms.

Today is my birthday, my twenty-seventh birthday to be exact, and we're stuck on the _Splendour Hyaline_ returning from the Seven Islands. Finnick stands me upright with a laugh as we lean on the railing near the bow, Peter and Edmund spiritedly dueling some distance behind us.

"At least you've grown wise in your old age. And by wise I mean less annoying," he playfully bumps his elbow into my side.

A content smile set upon my lips, I gaze out into the clear open ocean.

Things are certainly different these days, with Narnia finally in a peaceful state. The raids on our borders stopped not long after we sacked the witch's castle, probably because we decimated almost their entire resistance. And I found out, from what little I could from the black book. The witch could return using what's left of her wand and a Son of Adam's blood. But that was all I found since half the pages were missing...

Things are quiet now with only minor nuances to deal with, the majority not even for Finnick and me so we have loads of time to relax and enjoy the peace...pft, if only.

"Come on, Fin! Let's have a go!" Edmund cheers, clearly on a high from besting his elder brother.  
>"You see now? You've got them <em>all<em> calling me that ridiculous name," Finnick teases.  
>"Go on, <em>Fin<em>," I smirk, pushing him toward The Just King as Peter replaces him by my side.

"He's so quick! Those two swords of his are like wicked extensions of his arms," Peter gasps for air, downing a canteen of water.

I smirk to myself. _I _was the one who taught Edmund how to handle two blades. It was getting boring to watch Peter win all the tournaments.

"You did this, didn't you?" he amusedly accuses, wiping the drops of water from the five o'clock shadow lining his face.  
>"<em>Someone<em> needed to give you a run for your money," I laugh, watching Edmund disarm Finnick.  
>"Be thankful it's your birthday!" he jokes, jumping back into the fray with Finnick to try and overpower the black-haired young man.<p>

I can't help but shake my head at that man.

The man I love.

It's a notion that scares me to this day. Nobody but me knows this truth and if I want to remain in Narnia it _has_ to stay that way. And I want to stay more than anything, _especially_ since things have finally evened out with Peter. What I mean is that it's not so difficult to be around him anymore, we can just _be_ and savor those precious stolen moments we have when nothing else matters but each other. I'm not saying it's easy because it's certainly far from it. But this is my life and I have to deal with it.

"You're bloody awful," I teasingly smile at Finnick as he gives up, leaving the battle to Peter.  
>"Go on then, let's see how <em>you<em> fair against him," he tiredly points at Edmund as he champions Peter once more.  
>"I don't want to ruin his good day," I merely say, folding my arms across my chest.<p>

Finnick barks out a laugh, disappearing below deck, most likely going to change into clean clothes. Peter officially bows to his younger brother, realizing that he would have to practice more often. The High King takes Edmund under his arm, ruffling up his black hair in a brotherly way that makes me smile. Peter's blue eyes catch mine and he flashes me a warm smile before a couple fauns drag him into conversation.

I sigh, turning below deck to my quarters, where I discard my heavy naval jerkin finding it too hot as the sun takes its high place in the sky. A knock at my door causes me to turn as I'm gathering my hair into a loose ponytail.

"Hello, Lu," I smile at the youngest Pevensie.  
>"Happy Birthday, Evi," she pulls out a rather large package from behind her back.<br>"Lucy!" I exclaim, partially reprimanding her for getting me a present.

Honestly it's the same thing year after year. I tell them all not to bother but they do it anyway.

"Susan and I found it at the market in Brenn. We thought it was perfect for you to wear at your birthday celebration," she grins, sitting down on my bed as I unwrap the package to find the single most beautiful gown I've ever seen.

The gown is a brilliant golden color, shining even in the dim light of my cabin with the embroidered gems on the bodice casting a silver reflection. Along the front of the skirt an exquisite, silver, floral pattern trails its way around the dress. Its multiple layers give the dress a robust look and feel, but it's surprisingly lightweight and soft to the touch as it's made from a special type of silk. This dress was made for a queen, not a scruffy general.

"Lucy..." I breathe, my mouth agape as I stare at the gown, "I can't take this."  
>"Of course you <em>can<em>. It's your birthday!"  
>"No," I try shoving it back in her arms, "<em>You<em> take it. It was clearly meant for royalty."  
>"You're being stupid, Evi, take it," she pushes it back, "You deserve something this nice among all that battle wear you have."<p>

"Thank you," I breathe with a joyful smile.  
>"You're very welcome, Evi," she nods, giving my hand a little squeeze before heading back up top.<p>

With the cabin to myself, I pull the gown out to its full length and hold it up to my small, curvy frame, as if trying to get a sense of how it will look. It will be so different when I finally get a chance to wear it. I'm just so used to wearing my tunic and black trousers that I forget how girly I used to feel and _not_ like a soldier.

"Hey, Evi, I—Oh, so Lucy gave it to you then," Finnick interrupts my small moment and I furiously tuck the dress away, feeling my cheeks grow warm.  
>"You knew?"<br>"Of course I knew," he smirks, making himself comfortable in my bed, "Now come here so I can give you your gift."  
>"Finnick, I told you not to," I frown, sitting on the edge of my bed and I can feel his body curl around me as he slides himself closer.<br>"You say that every year," he rolls his eyes, pulling a small box from his pocket.

Leaning back into the corner his body creates, I take the box from his hands.

"I know you're not much of a jewelry person but it's supposed to have belonged to a lost Narnian Princess," he tells me as I gape at the gorgeous silver ring.

The ring starts as an angel of wind, blowing his zephyr that makes up the rest of the band in curling silver. In the throes of the "breeze" several red stones are inlayed, shining dangerously. Finnick takes the ring out of its box for me, sliding the cool silver metal over my finger. It was a gorgeous ring but something about it felt...odd.

"All these beautiful gifts...people are going to think I'm a Lady," I say in response to his gift, making him laugh again.

He does that a lot around me now and I find myself enjoying my time with Finnick. Through all our adventures in the Narnian country, I relate to him the most. Lucy, Edmund, and even Peter will never understand the duty and responsibility Finnick and I face on a daily basis, having to deal with them _and_ the Order at the same time. I'm not saying it's more important—or even more difficult. It's just a lonely, hollow feeling every day _all _day.

And we kind of resent the Kings and Queens for it.

Either they truly don't see it or they refuse to acknowledge it but Finnick and I often fall into massive depressive states. And it's not just Finnick and me, it's the entire Order. There's just something about being so _vehemently_ bound to that blasted code that makes us fall into pits of despair. We can't do a great deal of our own and feel bitter inside when we witness the free reign the Kings and Queens have.

It's a dizzying roller coaster that I just want to get off of sometimes. God knows it strains the feeble relationship Peter and I have. There are the times where—like a said before—we can just _be_. They may last for as long as months to as short as a few hours but during them we're in bliss. And then...there are the times where we don't speak, doing everything we can to stay away from each other. It's during these times that we just...drift apart. Peter will indulge himself in other women and I take comfort in Finnick. There's nothing sexual or romantic on either end, it's just...almost as if...we're moving on. After ten years, there's little hope of us being together and now I think we're coming to the stage of life where we _are_ going to have to consider other options and think about our futures and the future of Narnia.

And it scares the absolute hell out of me.

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><p>We make it to Cair Paravel just before sunset, the Kings and Queens taking to their return feast with ten kinds of enthusiasm but I have not the heart to join them. With all that I thought about today, I could feel myself slipping into one of those grim holes. So I head down to the beach, standing ankle deep in the surf and admiring the painting of colors in the sky as the sun sinks below the horizon.<p>

Lately, though, I can't seem to find much peace in the beach.

I've just had an overwhelming feeling of dread. It might be the anxiousness at such a long period of peace and not hearing even a _whisper_ of the witch's old supporters. But then again, I really have no idea.

"You didn't come up to say hello," Greywind's comforting voices breaks through the sound of the crashing waves.  
>"Hello," I look at her with a smile.<br>"You're sad," she frowns, "But it's your birthday."

Behind her on the beach, I see Peter. He's some distance away yet, hands jammed in his pockets, eyes pensively narrowed out at sea and he kicks at the sand every so often, the small flecks creating a tan cloud in front of him. Something troubles him and I can only imagine what. I breathe a sigh, turning my attention back onto the gryphon in front of me. I haven't even told _her_ that I love Peter. I know she isn't supposed to breathe a word about what I tell her but I feel like if I say the words aloud...that's all the reason Arma needs to ship me back to New York.

"Grey..." I sigh again, "I am twenty-seven years old...and I haven't graduated high school or college. I haven't gone through the emotions of births, deaths, a wedding. I haven't been on a date in ten years...haven't had a first kiss or-or an anniversary...I haven't been with a man...and I have no family of my own," I wipe away the tears I know are coming, "Every year on my birthday...that's all I think about. It's one year later, I'm one year older, and nothing's changed. There's so much I've gained from being in Narnia...and I love it! With all my heart, I do...but there's also so much I've missed out on."

Greywind is smart. Smarter than most. And I know she can read between the lines and understand that it's not any single one of those things that I want. It's that I want those things with _Peter_.

"You love him," she stated, a sad look on her face.

I swallow the lump in my throat as I look past her to Peter once more, my tears finally falling. His eyes meet mine but there's no smile between us.

"Greywind, I have a duty," is all I tell her.

She nods in understanding before she turns back to the beach, bowing before Peter. After she's gone, he manages a smile and starts wading out to me. I know he's here to give me a gift seeing as everyone else had already done so. Edmund's being a hand crafted dagger, a practical gift very typical of him.

"Happy Birthday, Evi," he presses a kiss to my cheek, lingering for just a moment to tuck my hair behind my ear. I'm never going to forget the way he does that.  
>"You could use a shave," I quietly tease, smoothing my fingers over the scruff on his face.<br>"I'll have to visit Taryn later," he chuckles, his hand reaching into his pocket.

I roll my eyes with an unsurprised smirk, waiting for Peter to present me with his gift.

"You Pevensies," I shake my head with a scoff.

He says nothing but lets a necklace drop and dangle from his fingers, a satisfied smile playing his lips at my audible gasp. The cord laced through his fingers is just a simple black leather string but the pendant hanging from it takes my breath away. It's _just_ like my favorite Narnian flower, the blue ones that change colors. I can't even bring myself to take hold of the crystalline charm for fear of breaking it. Dark blue almost radiates from the petals, which appear to be made of crystal but with a closer look it's actually a very rare precious stone, native to only to the smallest of the Seven Islands, Linn.

"Go on, take it," he laughs, holding it closer for me. But I still can't. It's just _too_ beautiful and it can't possibly be mine.  
>"Peter..." I start to say but my thought gets swallowed up by the emotion restricting my throat and I suddenly realize that I'm crying again. But Pete just smiles, leaning forward and clasping the jewel around my neck, his warm breath sending fierce chills down my back.<p>

"I had Rae's best artisan craft it for you. During the day it'll change, just like the Taels. And there's an actual necklace to it as well so you can wear it at the ball but for now...I figured this was more practical...besides, the pendant will bring out the blue in your eyes much better alone," he smiles, watching me hesitantly take the pendant between my fingertips.

"Peter, it's beautiful," I squeak.  
>"I <em>intended<em> it to be as beautiful as you but..." he laments, making me giggle through my tears.

A deep sigh passes my lips and I brush away the tiny droplets of water smearing my face. Damn that man for making me cry.

"Do you like it?" he asks with a smile.  
>"I love it," I smile back, mesmerized by his sharp blue eyes.<p>

God, how I _love_ him so. I love him with every _fiber_ of my being and he will never know. I suddenly find myself leaping into his arms, my arms wrapped so tightly around his neck. As if second nature to him, he melts into my embrace, his hand tangling somewhere in my hair and his face nuzzling in the crook of my neck. And with an equal intensity as I'm holding him, he brings me into his chest.

"I love you, Evi," he sighs, the weight of his body slumping against mine.

I bring my face back, tearfully combing my fingers through his blonde locks.

"Peter, if only you _knew_," I cry.

I don't know if I've ever felt the pull like this before. That pull to tell him how much I love him. It's been strong before, of course, but usually I'm able to drown it out. But now it's just on my lips and all I need to do is part them and let the words roll off my tongue.

"Pete!"

Peter and I are startled apart from our intimate embrace by Edmund's voice and I have no doubt he witnessed the small exchange but the hurried tone of his voice allows me to forget it for the time being.

"What is it, Ed?" Peter frowns, instantly wading back to the beach.  
>"Boreades! Just north of the castle!"<p>

Peter and I exchange the same severe look, now running after Ed.

"How did they get past our borders?" Peter growls.  
>"I have no idea," I shake my head, just as confused as he is.<p>

We're dashing up the steps near the Order passage when I'm ambushed, being sharply pulled into the brush with a yelp. I'm met with a pair of hauntingly mercuric eyes that belong to none other than the Boreade Notus.

"Evi!" Peter calls, noting my absence.

My eye widen as I stare at Notus, wondering just what the hell he wants with me.

"Evi!" Peter yells more fiercely.

"I need to speak with you alone," he says and I nod before he slowly slides his hand off my mouth.

"I'm fine, Peter! Just tripped over some overgrown roots. Go on ahead!" I call back, still locked in a gaze with Notus.

Peter and Edmund's footsteps fall away into nothing and I scramble out from under Notus, taking not another minute to pull out my bow and aim it at his heart. He may have helped us once but who's to say that he isn't part of the attack to the north?

"I'm alone, Lady Evelyn. All I want to do is talk," he innocently raises his hands in clear view.  
>"What about the attack?" I bark, not lowering my bow, "Forgive me, but your kind aren't exactly trustworthy!"<br>"No attack. I was the one to raise the alarm as a distraction. I had to be sure that you were alone," he explains, sincerity all over his handsome features.

For a couple more seconds I let the notion sink in and I lower my bow, hooking it around my shoulders once more.

"Exactly why do you need me alone?" I fold my arms across my chest.  
>"Spies," he warily glances around as if there is one lurking somewhere in the shadows, "Where can we go?"<p>

I nod in understanding, "This way."

I lead the tall Boreade back down the stairs and to the Order passage, the same that I've only ever taken once and that was when Finnick brought me here to face my oath. All these years I've avoided all other Order initiations for fear of what this place would bring back to me in memories. Only now, I feel nothing. The memory is so distant I wouldn't even be able to retell it.

"Is this area secure?" Notus unsurely gazes around at the marble room, checking every alcove.

"Yes. There are no initiates tonight so no one will be here, I assure you," I tell him, lighting a few of the braziers with the flint in my pocket. It's been six years since the encounter with the Boreades and we've heard nothing from them. Notus being here must mean something _has_ happened or something is _about_ to happen. Either way, it cannot be good with the talk of spies.

"The Queen has lied," he begins with a sigh, un-shouldering a satchel from his side, "She lied to her people and she lied to you."  
>"How do you mean?" I frown.<br>"Gwyn is in league with the White Witch. Jadis didn't steal our magic, Gwyn _gave_ it to her," he scoffs, "The two are of the same race of Charn blood."  
>"<em>What<em>?"

Every detail of shock is written all over my face as the news registers in my mind.

"And she isn't the only one. There are _at least_ four with the Charn bloodline _somewhere_ in the world of Narnia. Gwyn being one, Lady of Green Kirtle another—"  
>"Wait, wait, <em>wait<em>. Just slow down for minute," I bitterly command, all this coming so fast, "How do you _know_ all of this?"

Notus breathes a heavy sigh, something clearly bringing down his mood, "Things are not going well in Borea. There was a man, one of the Charn I believe, he showed up some years ago claiming Gwyn broke her oath to Jadis by not helping to return her to power. She denied any contact with the witch, dismissing all of the man's claims. But the damage was done and the Queen was found out. Only, she didn't back down. She tightened her hold around the country inciting violence and dictator rule. She's going to try and resurrect the White Witch. I managed to nick these in one of our counter raids and once I read them I knew I had to speak with you."

Notus hands me the satchel and I peer inside, finding a vast array of Charn history books, grimoires, ancestries and other things all relating to their magic.

"You spoke of spies?" I ask wondering why her spies would be here in Narnia.  
>"Yes," he nods, "She's been keeping tabs on you and your King ever since you left our borders. She knows that you will use everything in your power to prevent the witch from returning."<p>

That's unsettling.

This _entire_ time I've been watched...and then it hit me.

"Are they in Cair Paravel?" I gasp, remembering how all the books we have on Jadis are missing valuable pages.  
>"Possibly. Probably. Evelyn, don't let <em>anyone<em> have these tomes. Not even your most trusted friend. There's no telling _who_ Gwyn has under her wing. Or who is associated with the _others _from Charn. They're planning something big, something they've tried before but failed."

I _don't_ like his tone.

"These witches are all essential to reviving the Charn race. I mentioned before the other two, Gwyn and the Lady of the Green Kirtle, and then obviously there is Jadis but there are two _more_, Evelyn. One I believe to be the man from years ago and the other has been lost for some time, probably doesn't even know the blood that runs through his veins. I don't know how they plan to do it, the books don't go into specifics, but if they revive the race, they could have a power that will make the Long Winter seem like a dream."

"But they have to find the lost witch _and_ bring Jadis back," I try to placate the seriousness of the situation, still not believing I'm hearing it.  
>"Evelyn, don't you <em>understand<em>!" he roughly grabs my shoulders.

"If they come to power, Narnia as we know it will cease to exist."


	24. A Sliver of Hope

**Two more after this one! I've already began working on the sequel and I think you guys will really enjoy it.  
><strong>

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><p>Blood from a Son of Adam, sacrifice of a traitor, temptation of a pure soul...<p>

And the list continued much like that. The tomes that Notus gave me proved invaluable to getting one step ahead of the witch. But progress is frustratingly slow, much of the word written in the foreign language of Charn. I've had to _personally_ consult various other texts to decipher the ones from Notus. Night after sleepless night, I withdrew to the library, sometimes not even getting more than a couple words translated. Against Notus' advice I spoke to Edmund and Peter about what I was told but they've just been too busy with the diplomats from Galma arriving. They've barely had any time to spare with me in the library. Finnick is next on my list, but I've just been too absorbed in the text to bother telling him.

"_Again_, Evi?" I hear Edmund's quiet voice break through the silence and the darkness covering the library.

I look up, peering into the dark as my eyes adjust and I see Edmund's shadow looming near. He slides into the chair across from me and I can only smirk at him as he tiredly rubs his eyes. If I'm up late, ok. But if _he's_ up late, there's only one place he could've been.

"You're quite cheery," he remarks, sleep in his voice.  
>"I'm surprised you <em>aren't<em>," I insinuate with a little wiggle of my eyebrow.  
>"Stop that," he throws a paper ball at me, making me laugh.<br>"There's nothing _wrong_ with going to visit a certain _someone_ in the middle of the night," I laugh, knowing his little affair with one of the stable girls.

"Then why don't you do it with Peter?" he shoots back and I frown.  
>"You're getting a little old for that, don't you think?" I reply, no trace of humor left.<br>"Maybe. But it doesn't stop you from wanting to do it. I see you, you know. The two of you. You both think that nobody sees it but we do. Peter doesn't believe it when I tell him but I know you well enough to know that you l—"

My hand clamped over his mouth, not believing he almost said it. For Greywind to say it, it's one thing but for someone other than my familiar to say it...I don't know what would happen.

"Please don't say it," I beg, my voice trembling, "I-I don't know what will happen."

Edmund's eyes widen, surprised that he was actually right in thinking that I love Peter. I take my hand away from his mouth and run it over my face in apprehension.

"My God...this whole time?"  
>"Ed," I remind him, throwing a stern look his way.<br>"Peter should know," Edmunds ignores me.  
>"You don't think I know that?" I hiss, "You have no idea how <em>badly<em> I want him to know!"

I don't know why Edmund brought it up. He knows better than anyone why Peter and I can't be together.

"I'm sorry, Evi," he says, once he sees how upset he's made me. My only response is a sigh with the shake of my head, my gaze dropping once more to the pages. In front of me I hear Ed do the same, adjusting the lamp so more light could flood over his spot.

Silence fills the space between us and I can feel my former anger dissipate and I'm suddenly left feeling guilty about the way I spoke to him.

"I'm sorry, Ed. You were only looking out for me," I sigh, no longer able to keep my guilt to myself.

He looks at me for a moment before responding, "You're just so depressed these days, Evi. You don't even come out with me and Lu to the Beavers' or Mr. Tumnus'. You're always on patrol or with Finnick. We never see you anymore. We just want the old Evi back."

"Edmund..." I start, not knowing how to reply, "I don't...know if that Evi exists anymore."  
>"Yes she does...she has to if Peter has loved you all this time," he simply responds.<p>

The Just King.

I'm still amazed by the reason he shows. All this time I resented _them_ for not understanding the Order. All while I didn't realize how _I_ have changed and not understood that they lost a dear friend.

"I've really let you all down, haven't I?" I say with a sigh.  
>"Don't be too hard on yourself. We didn't have the guts to say anything sooner," he shrugs his shoulders.<br>"That's no excuse. I sh—"

"Um, Evi?" he interrupts me, something darkening his features as he stares down at the book in front of me.  
>"What?" I confusedly look at him.<br>"Evi, this woman looks like you," he quickly pushes the book over to me, rounding the table to look over my shoulder.

The page Edmund was looking at was a family tree of Narnian royalty beginning with King Frank and Queen Helen themselves, Narnia's very first rulers. The line zigzags down the page a bit to their great granddaughter, the youngest child of Frank and Cassidy by the name of Anneliese. And she looks _strikingly _similar to me. The same dark blue eyes and soft bone structure.

"Evi..." Ed's finger draws my gaze down to a line breaking off between Anneliese and her husband. There's a baby, but it's not where Edmund is pointing. His finger is just below the baby's name and not a single sound comes from my mouth as I see _my_ name there, in glaring red letters. Only, it's not Evelyn Cassidy Wood that I see, but Evelyn Cassidy _Beckett_. My eyes race back up the line to Anneliese's husband, Simon Beckett, whose father was none other than General Maxwell Beckett.

No.

It can't be.

This is madness.

It _can't _be.

_...grandparents who lied to you all these years..._

Arma.

That bastard knew all this time.

In my dreams from when I first came to Narnia he taunted me with riddles.

..._you should listen to Finnick, he'll know what will happen if you carry on...Maxwell Beckett didn't listen either..._

Finnick.

I jump from my seat, ripping the page from the book and ignoring Edmund's calls for me to stop. I don't care that it's nearly midnight, I'm going to tear Finnick a _cosmos_ of new ones.

"FINNICK!" I roar, smashing his bedroom door shut behind me.  
>"Whassamatter?" he lazily rolls over but then sits upright when I bring my fist down onto his stomach, "Bloody hell woman!"<br>"_What_ did my granddad do?"

Finnick looks at me with a blank face, slightly wincing from the heavy blow to his stomach.

"Your granddad? Evi what are you—"  
>"Don't <em>FUCK<em> with me, Finnick. I want the God damn truth!" I yell, tears brimming in my eyes.  
>"He <em>betrayed<em> Narnia! Is that what you want to hear?" he shouts back, standing up and bringing himself to full height, "Narnia was being invaded by the witch and he broke his oath! He vanished and left Narnia to fall!"

"That's it?"  
>"Yes," his chest heaves up and down from anger.<br>"You're sure?" I bitterly ask.  
>"Positive."<br>"Then what the _HELL_ is this!" I shove the page into his chest and he glares at me before looking at it.

"What am I looking at?" he snaps.  
>"Look closer, you'll figure it out," I retort.<p>

His eyes widen and he looks at me with surprise.

"Did you know?" I ask.  
>"Evi, I—"<br>"DID YOU KNOW?" I repeat again on the brink of tears.  
>"No! Evi, I swear I knew nothing about this. Where did you even <em>find<em> this?"

But I'm not able to answer. I simply break down, sliding to the floor in a weeping mess.

I'm a _Narnian_.

A descendent of Frank and Helen.

A _princess_.

I wasn't born in Chicago. My parents aren't Don and Jean Wood. Nanna isn't even my grandmother. Everything I ever thought I knew about myself is a lie. They all knew. They knew I wasn't their daughter, her granddaughter. Nobody breathed a word to me. If something like this has been a secret all my life, what else don't I know?

And Granddad.

A _traitor_.

He was my idol, the saving grace in my life. But in this one night I find out he lied to me. I find out he _abandoned_ Narnia when she needed him most because of some _floozy_?

How could he _do_ that?

* * *

><p>The next morning I wake up in an unfamiliar room and find I'm not even in a bed. Senses swimming back to me, I recognize that I'm in Finnick's room. Funny, I don't even remember coming here.<p>

But then I see it.

That cursed page.

And it all comes back to me and I suddenly feel sick to my stomach, crashing back down onto the sofa, with a hand pressed over my eyes.

A princess.

I had a whole family I didn't even know about, a mother and father. Did they love me? What happened to them? Why was I separated from them? These and a host of other questions seared through my brain until I felt a warm hand on my face. Removing my hand I see Finnick, sitting on the edge of the sofa.

"You were a bit hysterical last night. I didn't know what you would do so I kept you here," he softly explains.  
>"I think I deserve to be," I reply in a hoarse voice, sitting back up again, "You really didn't know?"<p>

He solemnly shakes his head, "I wouldn't keep something like that from you."

I sigh with a slight nod of my head, "So what happens now?"

"With what?"  
>"This whole 'Evi's an ancient Narnian princess' thing. What does this all mean now?" I clutch a hand to my forehead, feeling a headache brewing.<br>"Well I think that you should just rest. It really did a number on you and I'm not so sure you should go on duty today," he gently pushes me back down.  
>"No, I have to. The Kings and Queens are going out riding today. I must accompany them," I push his hands off me, slowly getting to my feet, "Do me a favor?"<p>

"Of course," he sighs, seeing that I wouldn't listen to him.  
>"I got this page from some books that I got from Notus. I need you help me sort through them," I say, tucking the folded page into my pocket.<p>

It's already late. Nearly midday and I wonder if they are even waiting for me but I hurry to the stables anyway, saddling my black steed. Riding out, I find that they're all still here and with a smile I breakout into a sprint.

"Come along then, Majesties!" I bring my horse around with a smile, watching as their faces light up.

"Race you!" Edmund jests, sending his horse forward and I accept his challenge, kicking mine along as well.

Somewhere along the way, Lucy and Susan join with laughter, quickly surpassing us. Edmund, not wanting to be beat by his sisters, grits his teeth and charges forward but I am too tired to race at such intensity and wait while Peter catches up, amusedly watching the whole thing from behind.

How handsome he is...muscles rippling beneath his stark white riding shirt and slightly exposed at his open collar, and that adorable smile on his lips...and his eyes...I can just go on and on about those beautiful cerulean eyes of his.

"Come ride with me?" he asks, trotting beside me.

I nod, completely letting the other three slip from my mind. For some reason, I feel like I _have_ to have this time alone with Peter, like it might be the last intimate moment I'll have with him. Where these feelings are coming from, I have no idea, but I can't ignore them.

Almost as if in our own world, we gallop down to the coastline, gently racing each other through the surf as we're sprayed with salty foam. It's just me and Peter, laughing and smiling. There's not a single bad thought in my head as we dismount our horses and continue to romp in the tide. It's been ages since I've felt this happy, this young. I feel like my old self, the girl who stumbled into Narnia and discovered a world of possibilities.

"You seem to have lost some of your grace," I laugh, hanging on to Peter as I lift him from shallow water. He had been running and splashing me until he lost his footing and tumbled into the sea. All he does is laugh along with me, holding my elbows, keeping me close to his body.

"Thank you," I say as my laughter subsides, knowing that he brought me here make forget all that has happened.  
>"You needed it," he brings my hand to his lips, kissing away the salty water.<br>"I just wish it changed things," I sigh, his kisses leaving my fingers feeling all tingly.  
>"Maybe it does. Are princesses allowed in the Order?"<p>

Suddenly, a shell of hope explodes inside my heart and I have a difficult time trying to quell its flooding effects. Royalty _aren't_ allowed to take the oath. But somehow I was able to. This is what causes me to lose some hope and slightly panic.

"Peter, don't do that," I shake my head.  
>"Do what?"<br>"Raise hope like that. It's only going to end in disappointment," I slide my hand from his, my sense of reality returning.  
>"But I <em>am<em> right, aren't I?" he sweeps my hair from my face.  
>"Yes but there are other factors to consider. We can't just jump into anything with knowing for <em>certain<em>. Peter if I did something and I was forced to leave...I don't know what I would do," I remind him.

He sighs wanting to convince me but he realizes there's a lot to take care of at the castle before we can investigate into the legitimacy of my oath.

"After the court from Galma leaves, promise me we'll look into this," he clasps both my hands in his.  
>"Why wouldn't we?" I smile.<p>

Hope.

It spreads throughout every vein in my body like a virus and I'm terrified. I'm terrified that it's a false hope and I'm only going to end up in more pain. I don't know if I could handle it.

And I don't think Peter could either.

* * *

><p>"Evi, what are you doing? Baron Tristan will be here any minute," Finnick comes into my room, adjusting the belt on his full Order uniform, while I'm scrambling all around my chamber not even dressed yet.<p>

"Finnick, they're gone!" I shout, turning my dresser inside-out, tossing clothes all about.

"What are? Evi, you're even dressed yet," he pulls the drawer out of my hands, trying to pull my dark blue tunic over my shoulders. Once it's firmly on my body, I tear away from him, dashing up into my loft to scour my bed.

"The _books_, Finnick! Somebody's _stolen_ them!" I yell over the railing.

If I can't find those books, there's no way of knowing if I'm officially part of the Order or not.

"Evelyn, we don't have time for this," Finnick, says coming up the stairs, "We have to go meet the Galman Court."  
>"There were here! You put them here! We can't...I can't...they've got to be..." I start frantically rambling but Finnick take my face between his hands.<br>"Stop. After the banquet, I promise I'll help you look for them. But you need to finish getting ready," he urges.

When I don't move, he lets out a frustrated sigh, strapping on all my gear for me and tying my cloak around my neck. I can't help that my mind is somewhere else. I don't _understand_ how they could've gone missing. And I can't believe this has happened _again_. Those books were absolutely vital to everything about the White Witch and her penultimate plot. The _only_ thing I have is the family tree that has remained in my pocket since I tore it out of the book—

"Evi," Finnick's voice breaks me out of my reverie.  
>"What?"<br>"I said are you ready?"  
>"Yes. Yes let's go," I shake my head but he doesn't seem convinced but presses a kiss to my cheek anyway before taking hold of my hand and leading me out to the Entrance Hall where an immense crowd has gathered.<p>

At the very front of the hall, the Kings and Queens are dressed in their very best outfits of royalty. When Finnick and I arrive, Peter looks suddenly relieved.

"What took you so long? I was afraid you weren't going to show," he whispers in my ear as we settle in next to him.  
>"Nothing. Don't worry about it," I wave him off seeing a great procession starting through the door. He's obviously not convinced but is forced to take his gaze from me when the Baron of Galma brings him in an embrace.<p>

"My Lord, High King Peter!" the elder man cheers, "It's been far too long!"  
>"Indeed it has," Peter offers him an enthusiastic grin, "You remember, of course, my esteemed General Evelyn and her second, Lieutenant Finnick."<p>

Tristan yanks me into fervent embrace, "Of course, of _course_! What a _beautiful_ woman you've grown into! And _Finnick_," he turns to the man next to me, pulling him into an embrace, "You're looking fit!"

I chuckle at the enthusiastic man, looking to Peter to see his amusement but he's not looking at Tristan. His gaze is focused on something farther down the procession...or rather, _someone_.

"Lord Tristan, who is it you've brought along with you?" Peter asks, eyes not moving from the woman, who is now standing just before us.  
>"Why yes! This is my lovely daughter Dany and this strapping young lad is my son Gale!"<p>

I hadn't even noticed the young man on the other side of his father and I found his eyes trained intently on _me_.

"My King," Gale bows and firmly shakes Peter's hand.  
>"My King," the girl, Dany quietly echoes, giving a little curtsy and offering her dainty hand to Peter, who takes it in his own and presses a kiss to it.<p>

I frown.

"My Lady Evelyn," Gale is now in front of me, pressing his own kiss to my hand, that intent gaze still in his eye.  
>"General, actually," I correct him.<br>"Forgive me, General, I had not realized that such a beautiful lady could be such a warrior."

Bleh.

Flattery at its finest...or worst, depending on how you look at it.

Dany passes me by without so much as a hello, her eyes sparkling at Peter, who leads the Narnian party behind the Galman court.

Somehow, I don't think this a birthday celebration I'm going to enjoy.


	25. Feels Like You're Making a Mess

**Here's another one! I'll probably post the last one tomorrow.**

**This one contains more of the M rating so just be prepared. **

* * *

><p>Jealousy.<p>

I've never felt it so badly before now.

Dany is incredibly beautiful. Slender figure, long legs, soft features, long blonde hair. She's not annoying or clingy and her laugh is light and smooth like silk. She's a Lady. I'm a soldier. How can I compete with that?

And Peter.

He's incredibly taken with her. At tea, she was all he could talk about and that's when the bite of jealousy came.

On top of that, I've had to deal with Gale's subtle advances. He's quite handsome, I admit. A mess of curly brown hair, strong chiseled features, and a scruff of facial hair that is rather ruggedly handsome. It might be my jealousy at work, but I've spent more time with him hoping that Peter will notice. But by the time I had to retreat to my chamber to ready for the banquet, Peter noticed _nothing_.

"Evi, are you nearly ready?" Lucy calls up to me from below.

I've been standing in front of the mirror for several minutes, not believing the person reflected back at me. The woman in the mirror is _stunning_, the golden dress hugging the curves of her body in such a perfect way, her golden skin glowing and soft to the touch, and her hair is pulled in a weaving and curling up-do that reveal the gentle contours of her face and neck, Peter's necklace dropping just above her bust. She can't _possibly _be me.

"G-give me a minute, Lu," I call back.

It's all just overwhelming and I don't even hear Lucy coming up the stairs until I hear her gasp of delight.

"Evi, you look exquisite! Susan, come up here!" Lucy calls to her sister.  
>"I <em>knew<em> we picked the right gown," Susan beams, upon seeing me.  
>"I don't think I can go out there," I say, not feeling as confident as I should.<br>"Evelyn Wood!" Susan scolds, "That is _not_ the yank I know. What happened to the girl who flaunted everything! Who wore _revealing_ black dresses?"

I chuckle, the black dress she's referring to somewhere among the battle wear in my wardrobe.

"Susan's right. You've got so much to be proud of! Now let's go out there and show 'em," Lucy grins.  
>"I'm supposed to meet Finnick here," I remind them with a smile, "You two go on ahead."<p>

They nod, each beaming mischievously before leaving me in my room. Not long after they leave do I hear knock on my door.

"Knock, knock, your escort is here," Finnick's snarky tone comes through the door.  
>"Are you going to laugh when I open the door?" I ask.<br>"That depends. _You_ in a dress will be hard _not_ to laugh at," I can practically see the smirk on his face.  
>"Finnick, you laugh and I will beat you so hard—"<br>"I won't laugh, let's just go already," he cuts me off and I hesitantly open the door.

His smirk is instantly wiped from his face as it twists into a dumbfounded look. I don't exactly know what Finnick was expecting but he's rendered speechless as a blush inches across his cheeks. There's something inherently adorable about that blush and the way he tries to cover it up, clearing his throat and raking his fingers through his messy brown hair.

"Not what you were expecting?" I giggle, hooking my hand around his arm.  
>"Not exactly," he breathes, "Evi, you're stunning."<p>

Now it's my turn to blush.

As we near the Grand Hall, my hold around Finnick's arm tightens significantly. He notices my anxiety and chuckles, holding me closer and placing his other hand firmly over mine.

"Don't be nervous," he whispers in my ear, inadvertently sending chills down my spine.

When we walk into the crowd, I'm thankful that people aren't staring. Most of the visitors don't even notice my presence and the ones who recognize me praise their compliments and move on. Apparently my appearance is only a big deal to me. Finnick and I schmooze our way through the crowd, eventually making our way up to the front. Where Peter is chatting with Dany, who looks elegant in a purple, straight-length gown and Edmund is flirting with Gemma, the stable girl.

But my heart sinks when Peter doesn't even notice me and I pretend to listen to Finnick who's talking with one of Tristan's guard.

"Evi!" I suddenly hear Edmund's voice, being twirled around, "You look fantastic!" he laughs.

He's laugh is infectious and I let him spin me around and observe every detail of my gown.

"I would go a step further and say ravishing," Gale's suave voice pulls me away from Edmund.  
>"Thank you," I give him a small curtsy, catching Edmund's frown out of the corner of my eye before he disappears.<br>"Would you care to dance, milady?" he takes my hand in his but I'm a little hesitant.

"Actually she's a bit preoccupied at the moment," I'm now drawn into Peter, who's somewhat sneering at Gale.

"Oh I am?" I furrow an eyebrow at him.  
>"Yes," Peter insists, drawing me a bit away from Gale, "Evi, I don't like the way he's looking at you."<p>

I don't believe him.

All day, _all_ day he's done nothing but fawn over Dany and now he has the _nerve_ to tell me I can't _dance_ with Gale? He hasn't even noticed me all day! And _now_ because I'm all dressed up he notices!

I tear away from Peter, linking my arm with Gale, "Let's go dance."

Peter looks positively hurt by my action but I don't care. What about how he's hurt _me_ all day? I turn to Gale with a smile, wrapping my arms around his neck as he leads me around the dance floor with delicate poise.

"He seems quite absorbed in you," Gale comments, briefly glance at Peter who's watching with mounting bitterness.  
>"Really? Because I seem to think he's fonder of your <em>sister<em>," I reply.  
>"Oh, now I understand," he lets out a haughty chuckle.<p>

"Understand what?" I confusedly look at him.  
>"You two are in <em>love<em>," he laughs as if the notion is silly.  
>"What do <em>you<em> know about it? How dare you presume to know me," I accuse, breaking away from him.

Pushing my way through the crowd, not caring _who_ I bump into, I make my way to the balcony the fresh air clearing away my dizziness. Gale pinpointed the exact reason for my frustration. Peter is supposed to love _me_, not Dany. He's said so himself. So why is he out in the gardens with _her_ and not me? I watch them laugh and talk, lazily strolling through the gardens below the balcony. The sight makes my face grow warm and tears sting the corners of my eyes. Feeling utterly defeated, I begin pulling the pins out of my hair, letting my wavy locks tumble on my shoulders.

"There you are," Finnick joins me out on the balcony.  
>"Come to give me more attention now that I'm all beautiful and dressed up?" I bitterly ask.<br>"Evi," he shakes his head, "I always thought you were beautiful."

His answer resonates within me and I look up into his smile with tears in my eyes.

"What's wrong?" he sweetly wipes away my tears with his thumb.  
>"Nothing, it's just stupid girl stuff," I shake my head, clearing away the lingering tears, "I shouldn't have snapped at Gale the way I did."<p>

Finnick frowns, "I don't like him."

"Why? Because of the way he looks at me?"  
>"Yes," he matter-of-factly states, "And because I'm just getting a bad vibe from him. Something's not right."<br>"You sure that's not just jealousy speaking?" I smirk, poking at his sides.  
>"Maybe a little," he admits, holding my hands.<p>

_Another_ man fighting for my attention. God, I just want this night to end. I can't take this all any longer.

"I'm going to go to bed, Finnick," I sigh.  
>"Are you sure? It's still early," he tries to coerce me to stay.<br>"Yeah. I'm just really tired," I nod, giving him a peck on the cheek before heading out of the Grand Hall.

Peter is falling for another girl.

That's the only thing I can think of as I silently walk back to my room. But maybe it's for the better. Maybe it's time to move on. Peter can't be a single King much longer, he has responsibilities. And, I mean, there's the _slightest_ chance that we might be able to be together...but what if something happens? What if I'm forced to leave?

I'd be just like Granddad.

A _traitor_.

I'd be abandoning Narnia all for what?

A _hunch_?

I can't do that. I can't make the same mistake he did. I _won't_ make the same mistake he did.

"Hello."

Gale's voice startles me and I whip around, my hand clutching my furiously beating heart.

"Jesus, you scared me!" I breathe a sigh.  
>"Sorry. It wasn't my intention," he apologizes with a handsome smirk, "Where are you off to? There's still plenty of dancing to be had."<br>"I'm a bit tired and I was just heading off to bed. If you'll excuse me," I bow my head, moving past him.

Only, he grips my arm, spinning me back around.

"What are you doing?" I frown, trying to pry my arm from his grasp.  
>"Maybe I could come with you," he says, backing me up into the wall.<br>"I hardly think that's appropriate," I say, ripping my arm from his hand.  
>"It <em>wasn't<em> a question!" he barks, roughly pinning my arms down and forcing my shoulders into the hard stone.

His mouth captures mine and I panic. I use all my strength to push him away but I don't get far and he tackles me to ground, a blade suddenly cutting into my neck.

"Stop moving!" he growls, "You move or scream, I slit your throat. Understand?"

Hot tears burn a fiery trail down my face as Gale sickly uses his free hand to grope my body. Every instinct tells me to scream, kick, flail, do _something_ to get him off me but that knife is already drawing blood at my restricted cry for help. And I can do nothing as he slips his tongue into my mouth, his hand working under my dress and up to my thigh.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"

Gale is tackled away from me by Finnick.

"Hey, hey, just having a little fun, mate," Gale tries to placate the seething Finnick.  
>"LIKE HELL YOU WERE!" Finnick throws his fist in Gale's face, knocking the smirk right off.<p>

Gale tries to fight back, wielding his dagger but Finnick deftly kicks it out of his hand dealing several blows to Gale's face. The shorter, leaner Gale is no match for Finnick who is extremely well-built and experienced. Gale is a bloody mess, clinging on to consciousness before Finnick finally stops beating him.

"If you_ ever_, _EVER_ come near her again, I'll kill you! You sick bastard," Finnick growls, throwing Gale to the floor.  
>"Evi. Evi, come on," his tone is soft and gentle, so unlike the way it was just seconds ago. He's gentle as he slips his hands under my arms to bring me up from the floor. His touch sends a surge of electricity throughout my body and I jump into his arms, absolutely sobbing.<p>

"Come on, Evi," he urges again, this time there are tears in his eyes. But I can't move. So he swings his arms under my legs, easily lifting me from the ground.

I bury my face into Finnick's chest, my body still wracked with sobs and I let him take me to my room. Just inside, he sets me down taking my face between his hands.

"Stay here. I have to inform the Kings and Queens."

I let out a pathetic yelp, grabbing onto his sleeve before he leaves, "Don't!"

"I'll lock the door. I'll be back. I promise. Stay here," he takes my fingers off his arm, slipping out of the room.

Terror grips me in a way I've never felt before. There's nothing stopping Gale from coming back and _violating _me once more. I look down at my trembling hand, catching a glimpse of my dress, stained with a few specks of blood from the cut on my neck.

This dress.

My skin crawls underneath the feel of it. It's because of this _dress_ that Gale came onto me. I feel so dirty just wearing it. It's an ugly reminder of what just happened and I suddenly need to get it off but my hands are trembling so much that I can't get the ties undone and I panic once more.

The dress is choking me.

I can't breathe with it on.

It needs to come off.

It's not coming loose.

I can't breathe.

I collapse to the floor, struggling through my tears to even see the damn knots. I hear the door unlock and Finnick is suddenly on the floor with me.

"Get it off!" I scream, "Just get it off of me!"

Finnick wrestles my hands away from the knots, takes his knife out and simply cuts the dress off and I scramble to get out of it, kicking it as far away from me as I can. I don't even notice the sharp chill that consumes my nearly bare body as I'm left in my bra and panties. All I feel is Finnick wrapping his arms around me, rocking me back and forth as he soothingly rubs my back.

Thank God for Finnick.

_He_ was there.

It was _him_ who saved me.

Not Edmund.

Not _Peter_.

_Finnick_.

I owe Finnick _everything_.

"H-he...he was gonna..." I choke out, through my cries.  
>"I know, I know. It's ok now. I'm here. I'm here, Evi," he soothes, stroking my hair.<p>

We stay on the floor, me half naked and bawling into Finnick's chest. He's patient throughout my entire episode, letting me cry out every single tear I can manage. And even when I stop and then start again, he's patient. Eventually, nothing more comes and I'm silently, just sinking into Finnick as he gently sways me back and forth.

"Let's get you some clothes, huh?" he draws me back with a faint smile.

But I just feel like I'm in a daze and I just let him tug an under-tunic over my head. I think he did it to salvage my modesty but I could hardly care at the moment.

"Can you stand?" he asks, helping to my feet.

Absentmindedly I nod, letting him help me up the stairs to my bed. I'm angry, I'm scared, and I'm hurt. If I had been clothed in my Order tunic with my weapons at my sides, Gale _never_ would have gotten the jump on me. And where was Peter? If he loves me like he says he does, then he would've been there with me. Not with Dany. God, I feel so betrayed by him. I can't _even_ describe it. Everything in my mind is just so all over the place right now, I can't make sense of any of it.

"Thank you," I whisper as Finnick is busy trying to pull back the blankets on my bed.  
>"Don't thank me," he shakes his head, not at all smiling.<br>"Why not?" I frown.  
>"Because I didn't get there soon enough," he snarls, throwing one of my pillows down out of anger.<p>

"The bastard put his hands all over...kissed you...put a knife to your th—"

My lips were on his before he could finish. Just the feeling of his soft lips on mine is enough to send tens kinds of sensations through my lower abdomen. Finnick is slightly stunned by my reaction but remembers himself and circles his arms around my waist, kissing me back with the same intensity. I can't get enough of Finnick, and I comb my fingers through his hair, trying to press myself farther into his body, loving how every curve of it fits with mine.

The back of my knees hit the side of my bed and I lose my balance, tumbling backward with Finnick falling with me. Are lips are only separated for a second as he repositions his body over mine, taking my mouth in his with an animalistic vehemence that makes my body ache. He senses this, placing his hand on my hip and bringing it up to meet his and I gasp, breaking off the kiss to catch my breath. Lust floods my entire body and makes my mind dizzy with longing. Everything about Finnick is setting off my pulsating need. His ragged breathing, his hazel eyes, the way his tongue wets his lips in anticipation, the tiny beads of sweat starting form on his hairline.

God, how I _want_ him.

I _need_ him.

With this thought, I bring his lips back down on mine, my hands running down the length of his back. I try to flip us over, wanting the upper hand, but Finnick has other plans. The weight of his body comes down on mine, his hips worming their way between my legs and I relish in this new pressure, my gratefulness coming out as a gasp.

"Wait," Finnick pauses, breaking away, "Wait. Stop."  
>"What's wrong?"<p>

Finnick sighs, sliding off my body, "Evi, you don't want to do this.

"I don't?" I furrow an eyebrow.  
>"No. You don't. Not really. You're just reacting on adrenalin. You'll wake up in the morning, mind clear, and see me here and you'll hate me for it. If this is what you really want, I need to be sure."<p>

I can tell it pained him to stop and I'm still not quite sure what the _hell_ he's talking about. But I let him press a brief kiss to my cheek before he goes downstairs to sleep on the couch.

Leaving me more confused than I've ever been.


	26. Nothing Lasts

**And here we are! The last chapter for this part of the story! Eventually I will get around to rewriting it because I think the ending is rubbish but I'm back at Uni and I've gotten quite busy. **

**You'll hate me for what's going to happen but I assure you all that in the sequel things will even out.**

* * *

><p>How easily things are flipped upside-down. Yesterday is a day I never want nothing more than to forget...and yet...I find myself thinking about it constantly.<p>

Gale fled Cair Paravel and Peter kicked Tristan and his Galman court out. Nobody would leave me alone. And the only person I wanted to talk to—Finnick—was avoiding me. I've never been so lonely before.

Peter.

He said he loved me but he easily ignored me for Dany.

He said he wanted to be with me but he wasn't there when Gale attacked.

Do I even love him anymore?

Well that's a stupid question...I don't think _anything_ can prevent me from loving him.

I breathe in a rush of warm, salty, sea air, feeling the mist from the waterfall in the courtyard spray my face.

Maybe that's why I'm so angry with him. I love him and count on him to always be there and he wasn't. But I still love him. After all, the way he roared at Dany this morning when she tried to defend her brother was quite amusing, despite everything that happened. I will always love him, even if I'm about to do what I _know_ is going to kill him inside.

"Evi," Peter sighs, wasting no time in wrapping his arms around me, "I'm so sorry I wasn't there. I'm so sorry that I was such an arse. I should've been there. I shouldn't have been with Dany. I'm such a bloody idiot."

"It's ok, Pete," I chuckle, easing his anxiety, "None of us knew something like that was going to happen. If anything you tried to warn me, you even said yourself you didn't like the way he was looking at me."

"No, it's not ok," he shook his head, "And I'm going to spend the rest of my life making it up to you."

My smile fades and suddenly I'm having second thoughts about what I'm going to say.

"And now that Galma is gone we can look through those books. We can find a way to be together," he smiles.  
>"Peter, the books are gone," I blurt out but he doesn't quite register my words.<br>"Gone? What do you mean gone?" he frowns.  
>"They were stolen. Finnick and I looked but we couldn't find a single trace of them," I sigh, feeling my eyes warm with tears and seeing Peter lose his cool.<p>

"But...how is that possible? Evi, they can't be gone! They're in your room, check again! They can't be gone! We're supposed to be together. I love you!"

Before I can say anything, Peter's lips crash down on mine. All the restricted passion, all the unrequited love pours from that kiss, his tongue sliding against mine and his hands becoming tangle in my hair. And I kiss him back. I kiss him back like my life depends on it, trying to memorize the feeling of his tongue, the taste of his lips—

"Peter!" I gasp, shoving him away from me, my hand flying to my mouth.

What did I just _do_?

His eyes widen with the horror of what just happened.

"No," he shakes his head, "He can't take you from me. I won't let it happen. I love you, we love each other," he takes my hands in his again.

My heart feels like it's going to burst through my chest as the tears tumble down my cheeks. How to I appease Arma? How do I make this right? I can't leave. I can't leave Narnia not for just a _kiss_.

"You love me right?" Peter asks, the tears pooling in his eyes.  
>"No," I say, my eyes tightly closed.<p>

I can't look at him. If I look in his eyes I won't be able to lie.

"I don't love you, Peter," I say more strongly, opening my eyes.

A pained look crosses his face and a few tears tumble down his cheeks. But then he looks at me holding my arms, pressing my body into his chest.

He _knows_ I'm lying.

My God, he can't know! He just _can't_! I can't leave!

"You're lying. I can see it!" he yells.  
>"No," I shake my head.<br>"You're lying! Why can't you tell me you love me?" he tightly squeezes my arms, imploring my eyes for the truth.  
>"Because I can't leave Narnia! If I tell you that I love you, I have to leave!" I scream, ripping my arms from him, my eyes being blinded by my tears.<br>"You're choosing Narnia over _me_?"

"No! I'm choosing Finnick!"

The words flew out of my mouth so fast I didn't even realise what I said until Peter's face darkened, suddenly backing away from me.

"Finnick?" his voice is constricted, barely able to even speak.  
>"Yes," I continue the lie, feeling my stomach churn, "I love him."<br>"No," he shakes his head, still not quite believing me, "You're lying again."  
>"I'm not," I determinedly stare at him, trying to even convince myself, "I love Finnick. He was there for me last night and...I slept with him."<p>

Peter chokes back a sob, so much pain twisting his face.

"How could you?" he whispers.  
>"I didn't plan on falling in love with him," I coldly tell him, knowing that every lie is torturing him even more, "He's just been there f—"<p>

"SHUT UP!" he roars, "You lying _bitch_! I LOVED you! I gave you EVERYTHING! And-and THIS is what you do? HOW COULD YOU DO THIS? TH-THIS WHOLE TIME YOU MADE ME BELIEVE WE LOVED EACH OTHER. EVI, I LOVED YOU!"

"Peter—"  
>"NO! I don't want to hear anymore," his emotion-laden voice unable to keep up his roaring tone, "I hope you and <em>Finnick<em> enjoy _fucking_ each other's brains out."

"Peter—" I try again.  
>"Just stop it, Evi...You're dead to me," he callously states.<p>

And he turns back inside.

For a moment, I keep my sob from slipping out. But my sorrow becomes too great to bear and I crash to my knees in a weeping heap.

When I said that I was going to say something, that wasn't it.

The result—though, I had hoped it wouldn't be as bad as it was—was still the same. I asked Peter to meet me here so I could tell him about the books and tell him that he has to move on. I was going to tell him that he doesn't have to wait for me anymore that he could have a real life and a real family.

But then he kissed me and I kissed him back.

And I panicked.

I thought if I told him that I love Finnick that Arma would let me stay. I don't even know if that's true but it just slipped out. And it just kept coming. I just had to make him believe I didn't love him. I can't leave Narnia. I can't betray Narnia like Granddad did. I _refuse_ to be like that man, that traitor...my God, I'm so selfish.

What have I done?

* * *

><p><strong>- Fifteen Years After the Battle of Beruna-<strong>

* * *

><p>If I didn't know any better, I'd think things were just like they were when I first came to Narnia. Susan despises me, Finnick and I are at each other throats. The only difference is, Peter can't stand me. The moment I told him the lie about Finnick, he made it his mission to make my life a living hell. He ignores my advice, ignores my battle strategies. Because of his egotistical pride we had to ride to Ettinsmoor to battle the giants after he insulted their king. Even then he didn't listen to me and he was almost, <em>almost<em> killed.

He's rude to me, flaunts every new broad hanging on his arm in my face, and frivolously spends money. He takes nothing seriously anymore and is far from High King Peter The Magnificent.

And Finnick.

Finnick might be even worse.

I told him what I said to Peter, that lie about sleeping with him. And he blew up in my face too. He couldn't believe I dragged him into it and never lets me forget it.

I try to pretend that Peter's and Finnick's animosity doesn't bother me but it does. Especially when I _know_ I still love Peter. There were times when Peter's gaze would soften and I could see a slight flicker of love in his eyes. But that was years ago, now I'm _positive_ he doesn't love me anymore.

As for the witch and her big plan...there's been nothing. Notus sent a raven about a year ago saying they successfully overthrew Gwyn, killing her in the process. And I firmly believe the witch is gone but Finnick has his doubts. These days I spend most of my time held up in the library, reading through Narnia's history. There's not much else I enjoy doing and going outside to ride or fence runs the risk of being taunted by Peter or Finnick. To be honest, I spiraled into depression, considering suicide on more than one occasion. Ironically, the only thing keeping me going is my oath and the Order. I took my decision to not be like Granddad seriously, especially now that Peter wants nothing to do with me. Narnia's safety is my responsibility and I will _not_ abandon her.

"There you are," Finnick grumbles, joining me in the library.  
>"What, Finnick?" I groan, highly annoyed that he's invading my alone time.<br>"Have you seen the Kings and Queens?" he disregards my irritation.  
>"No, they should be at lunch," I wave my hand, nose still in my book.<p>

But Finnick rips it from hands, slamming it down on the table.

"Who do yo—"  
>"Well they're not there now!"<br>"Then they're with Mr. Tumnus!" I yell but then stop when I see said faun casually strolling into the library.

"Sorry. Have I interrupted something?" he pauses, seeing us stare at him.  
>"Have you seen the Pevensies?" I ask, in a much more friendly tone than if I were addressing Finnick.<br>"Why yes! Well they...what are you doing here? They told me you were hunting for the white stag with them," he suddenly frowns and I drop a series of curses that makes the faun blush.

* * *

><p>"I'm going to <em>kill<em> him!" I bark, slamming the stable doors open, "Don't you say a word!" I point at Finnick seeing him open his mouth to make a smart-arsed comment.

"I _told_ him to _inform_ me when he's going out hunting. But does he listen? NO!" I heave myself onto my horse, "'What could happen, Evi?' he tells me, 'I can handle a sword just as well as you.' Just wait. We'll find them all _dead_ by the time we catch up to them!"

"Do you mind doing a little less rambling and a little more riding!" Finnick barks from ahead of me.

I scowl, digging my heel into my horse to send it forward.

Finnick and I reach the Lantern Waste just as the sun begins setting. My mood is still not eased when we dismount, scouring the land for our "missing" majesties. I don't know how many times I've told them, specifically Peter, that I have to accompany them when they travel.

"Evelyn!" Finnick calls from ahead. I wouldn't have hurried so much if I didn't hear the worry in his voice. When I break through the brush my heart drops. All four of their horses are just idly standing by, completely rider-less.

"Phillip, where did they go?" I ask Edmund's horse, the only talking steed of the herd.  
>"They went off that way some three hours ago," he points with his hoof.<p>

Unsheathing my knives, I head forward, prepared to meet anything hiding in the bushes. A strange feeling kees pulling me farther and farther into the tangled mass of branches.

"Evi, what are you doing?" Finnick tries following me but is impeded.  
>"I'm fine. I can—"<br>"EVI!" Finnick yells as I trip forward. Finnick gets a hold of the necklace around my neck but it snaps off and I tumble to the ground.

When I push myself up, though, I freeze.

Laughter, _distant_ laughter. And voices, so many voices. I'm at the bottom of a small hill and at the top of this hill, a large house sits.

_My_ house.

I'm back in New York.

I jump to my feet, nearly falling back over as I realize I'm in heels. Frantically looking down at myself, I see that I'm in my short, black dress, the very same one that I fell into Narnia wearing.

I'm seventeen again.

"No, no, no," I shake my head, the tears swimming in my eyes. I move to take a step forward, when something crinkles under my foot. I bend down and pick up the paper, finding the family tree with my infant-self sitting under Simon and Annaliese.

"No," I cry, the horror that I _somehow_ returned home fully setting in. None of this makes sense. I didn't break my oath, what the _hell_ am I doing here?

Peter.

I'll never see him again.

He never knew that I loved him.

My eyes drop back down to the paper in my hands and anger suddenly swells in my chest. There's only one person I need to see right now and as I dash back up to my house—all the people still there for Granddad's funeral—I feel no sort of regret for what I'm about to do.

Nanna.

Ignoring my mother's...my _fake_ mother's calls of protest as I aggressively force my way through the people in my kitchen, I storm up the stairs and quickly change into a pair of jeans and tank top. With fierce determination, I snag the keys from the counter and angrily speed to Nanna's the tears never stopping.

Without so much as a knock, I burst through the door, no doubt, frightening the grieving woman.

"Evi? What are you doing here?" she wonders.  
>"Why? Why didn't you tell me?" I accuse, ignoring Gatsby's wagging tail at my side.<br>"What are you talking about, dear?" she shakes her head.  
>"THIS!" I slam the page on the kitchen table, pointing to Granddad's name.<p>

Nanna's eyes spot the page and her face pales. I had been hoping that maybe I was wrong, _maybe_ she really didn't know. But the way she looked at the page and the way she's looking at me now tells me that she knew all along.

"Evelyn, dear, sit down. There are things you need to understand," she tries placating my fuming attitude.

"NO! I don't _want _to understand! Granddad was dying and you made me believe he was a raving old lunatic! You said all those things about Narnia weren't true! This WHOLE time you've been lying to me! MY WHOLE LIFE! If I had known, I could've been with Peter! I could've had a life with him! Instead of following Granddad's footsteps in the Order! NOW WHAT? I HAVE NOTHING HERE! _NOTHING_!"

"Evi, please. You still have me," she pleads with me.  
>"<em>You?<em> I don't even _know_ you!" I hysterically cry, a sardonic, bitter smile on my lips, "Don't EVER come near me again. I don't want to see you! I don't want to talk to you! Just leave me _alone_," I shout, turning on my heel.

Nanna just lost Granddad and now me...but I hardly even care.

I lost _everything_. Peter's love, all my family, my friends, my entire life. For God's sake look at me! I'm a seventeen year old _child_ again. I was a grown woman in Narnia, a woman with power and responsibility. How the _hell_ am I supposed to come back to all this?

For a few hours after my altercation with Nanna, I parked my car in a vacant lot, letting all my emotions pour out of me in tears. I really don't know how I'm going to do this. I have absolutely nothing to live for. The only _possible_ thing—and this is just the _tiniest _thing—I can think of, is the hope that I'll see Peter again and that I can make things right with him. But what are the odds of that?

Just as the sun begins to set, I wearily drive back to my house. As I pull into my driveway, though, I frown when I see someone sitting on my porch step. Unsurely, I step out of my blue Durango as the man looks up. And I let out a strangle cry once I realised who it is. Nothing held back I run into Finnick's arms. I have _never_ been more happy to see him in my life. He holds me, burying his face in my hair. I don't know how he got here but he is. I don't know why but it gives me purpose. Like there _is_ a way for me to get back.

Get back to Narnia.

Get back to Peter...

Peter, where ever you are...wait for me...I'll find my way back to you.

I promise.

* * *

><p><strong>There you have it! Like a said, a bit rushed but you got what you needed to out of it in order to setup the sequel and eventually the third part. Hopefully I'll be able to start posting the sequel around the winter holidays so keep a sharp eye out! <strong>

**In the meantime I'll post a section of one-shots to give you guys some more fluff during the Golden Age. So far I haven't written anything but I've got a few ideas mulling around up in the old noggin. **

**Thank you ALL for reading/subscribing/reviewing! Please, please, please let me hear your thoughts about what you like/didn't like or whatever!**

**THANK YOU ALL AGAIN!**


	27. Separate Ways Summary

**Hey, hey, hey! **

**The sudden urge to post the first chapter became too much for me to bear! So I decided to grace you all with a little present...Test of Time: Separate Ways is now posted! Just the first chapter, however, and I probably won't get to the other chapters until December but I wanted to give you all a little taste of what is to come. **

**Below is the full summary of the next installment. So take a look here and then go back to my profile and find the new story!**

* * *

><p>Against her wishes, Evelyn was dropped back in 2011, mysteriously along with Finnick, a man whom she thought she hated but has grown quite close to over the past year. For a while Evi couldn't get her mind of one Peter Pevensie, wrought with guilt over how she betrayed and lied to him, but after a while Finnick began to replace him, even if it was just superficially...but then one day, she remembers. She remembers everything she had with Peter and flies to England to see an elderly Peter and apologize for everything. The only problem is, she doesn't find him there...and what she does find is enough to make her sick.<p>

Back in the 1940's, Peter is not the same and it quite troubled. The other Pevensies had adapted to life back in England, but not Peter. He's struggling to move on without Evi, even after all the pain she caused him. He's angry, conflicted, and depressed, often taking all of this out on his siblings and other children at school.

Against all odds, Evi and the Pevensies are called back to Narnia where Evi and Peter must now face their problems head on. There's much to sort out between the two, all while another war is brewing between the Telmarines and the Narnians.

And what of the White Witch and her master plan?

Something is in motion that not even Arma or Aslan can comprehend...and it may be the end of _both_ world's as they know it.


End file.
